Load to (Last) Save
by Pygolampida Ankathi Alepou Dai
Summary: In every game, you load to the last save when everyone in your party dies. It always appears that the characters never remember themselves dying. But now, there is only one checkpoint: The Beginning. And Hawke definitely remembers.
1. Prologue

Lyla Hawke thought she had lived an interesting, if short, life. After fleeing the blight, she had lost her sister to an ogre, only to fall the aforementioned ogre with the largest fireball the had ever done. She bargained with the Witch of the Wilds, talked-and fought- her way into Kirkwall. She made her name as a mercenary, along-side her brother and her new friend Aveline. She had met Varric who, in turn, led her to meet Anders. She managed to make her way to the top of Mount Sundermount, and befriend the elf-mage named Merrill. She unsuspectedly helped Fenris, and gained him as yet another friend; ran into Isabella, and dragged Sebastian from his life in the Chantry.

Together, her band of misfits survived the deep roads, rid the city of invading qunari, and secretly (and not-so-secretly) tried to help out the mages. She lost her mother, watched her brother walk away, and invaded an impregnable vault. Lyla became the champion of Kirkwall, and her companions became her family. But all good things end, and everything went sour.

Anders tricked her into blowing up the Chantry. Sebastian stomped away, his arrow in the healer's throat. Fenris joined Meredith. Aveline was killed by a Templar, Merrill was torn to pieces by a Harvester. Those who were left had to face a crazed, lyrium-powered Knight-Commander Meredith.

Hawke watched her friends fall. She threw as many spells as she could, until she found herself laying on the ground with a hole through her stomach; watching as statues came alive and everyone was slain.

And as the world stood still, Meredith was left standing alone in a pool of blood. Hawke could hear someone whimpering nearby, but she could not place who it was. Just inside her vision, she could see the battered form of what once was her brother, his Templar armour caved in at the chest.

Tears gathered in her eyes as her lids slid shut. 'I'm sorry.' She thought; but she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. 'I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'

Perhaps she was silently apologizing to Meredith in hopes to be spared, or maybe to her kith and kin for leading them to death; or even of the people of Kirkwall she had failed. Hawke couldn't decide before her whole world went dark and she heard the much-missed voice of her mother, calling out to her to wake up.


	2. Repeat

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

Lyla blearily blinked open her eyes, revealing a battered wooden roof. Turning her head slightly, the worn face came into her view, as welcoming and frightening as anything could be in Thedas. Gentle hands clasped around her shoulders, trying to pull her up.

"What…?" Lyla croaked, her fingers coming up and gripping the wrist's of the hands upon her shoulder. "Mother?" Her head spinned, and the surface dipped underneath her. Slowly, she sat up, wary of an ache that should have came to her stomach but never did.

"Sweetheart, hurry, get up. The darkspawn are coming," her mother was saying, smoothing down Lyla's hair and tugging on her sleeve.

"Darkspawn. Yes." Lyla echoed stupidly. Ah, it was this dream again. The flight from Lothering, her first failing. Mechanically, she looked about her. Everything was clear in this dream. Carver stayed Carver, instead of warping between him and Father. He was leaning heavily against the wall, just as she remembered, and that eternal scowl was on his face. The house was just the way it had been. The Fade was being cruel. "Right."

Numbly, she reached for her staff, ever present besides her bed. The familiar memory of welcoming magic echoed around her as she gripped the wood. She used it to stand up, her eyes darting about her and taking in everything. Possible weapons, exits, places to duck for cover, things that she had to take into account when in real battles. Then, her eyes lighted on a quiet presence in a corner, gathering up something that seemed so minor now.

Lyla's mouth went dry, and her hands clenched around her staff. "We… have to get out, right?" She shook her head slightly, and then glanced back at the corner. Bethany was still there, looking whole and alive. Her sister didn't look like a walking corpse, and there was no skeleton wearing her clothes. It was bittersweet, painful and oh so good to see her face again. There was no time to dally over it, not even in dreams.

Mother bustled them out of the house, but that was wrong. Lyla always led, and once they started down the path she did once again. She was in front, setting a hard pace and hearing her family scamper behind her. Her family- wasn't it good to use that word again! Such a beautiful nightmare, for wasn't this the last one? She was bleeding out on the streets of Kirkwall, and dreaming her last dream of Family. Or else, the Maker really was a cruel Bastard and she had been right all along.

Lost in her musings, she almost missed when Mother fell to her knees, and the first group of darkspawn came around the corner. Her eyes came up, her staff sprung to life in her hands, and there was the flood of magic through her staff. The darkspawn fell easily- too easily. It made her a bit paranoid, standing protectively in front of Mother, her eyes darting again. There was no ogre, no swarm of darkspawn. All that happened was the fireblast made her feel more drained. The staff felt wrong in her hands, felt like the old staff and not the new one she had gotten by looting. The magic twisted just a bit different, just like in real life, and it made everything horribly realistic. Things stretched like in real-life, with normal lengths of time that was agonizing.

Carver let out a war-cry, startling her. His sword came down, cleaving some darkspawn in two. With that done, Bethany came up to Mother to fuss. Lyla stood off to one side, wary.

"I think that's all of them." Carver said on cue.

"For the moment." Bethany said despairingly. Right as if she was nothing but a perfectly preserved memory.

"Maker save us, we've lost it all. Everything your father and I built…" Mother lamented, and seemed to deflate.

Lyla hid a grimace, and stepped forwards. "At least we're alive." She said, trying to sound jovial for old times sake. "That's no small feat."

"Yes." Mother said, seeming to shake herself. "You're right."

"We should have run sooner. Why did we wait so long?" Bethany snapped, turning to Carver.

"Bethany, don't blame Carver for this," Lyla said immediately, before her brother had uttered a word. Carver closed his mouth with a 'click,' looking surprised. "He's probably been running since Ostagar. You should be glad he's alive." There was an awkward moment, in which Lyla glanced back. "Listen you two. The darkspawn could be on us in any minute. Let's get moving." Lyla took mother by the shoulder and steered her family on wards, still reveling in the novelty.

What followed was running and fighting, pushing Mother along and trying to get on as fast as they could. Everything was going well until Bethany stopped. Lyla almost panicked and shoved her forwards, but paused once she remembered that this was where they decided to go. The twins pulled up against each other, and Lyla played her part.

"As long as we wander aimlessly AWAY from the darkspawn, I'm happy." She said, with extra emphasis in a futile attempt to hurry them up.

"We can go to Kirkwall." Mother piped up from next to Lyla.

"There, see? Mother's got it all figured out. We even have family there. Now, let's just- go?" Lyla watched as Bethany's face became guarded.

"There's a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, sister," Bethany said, crossing her arms. Besides her, Carver gritted his teeth and looked away at the mention of anything to do with magic.

"We can worry about that when we get there. Right now, let's make our way to Gwaren and take ship." Lyla said, even as her head pounded. This was wrong. This- this was different. She made it different. "Let's get away from the fight, and- and once everyone is safe we can figure things out, alright?" Bethany opened her mouth, as if to say something. By now, however, Lyla had enough of that. "Bethany, move!" She shoved her sister forcefully, making her stumble. Internally she felt guilty, but she could apologize later.

Except there was no later, a nasty little voice reminded her. She dies, everyone dies and you let them die.

Lyla dutifully ignored this voice, but did give Bethany a wince and an apologetic look. Everyone looked shocked into obedience at her outburst, following after her like little Mabari pups. Speaking of a Mabari-

She looked down, and sure enough there was Chomp. She didn't notice him earlier, having become so used to him being there he faded into the background. No- not even that, for she took notice of the background. She only noticed him when he wasn't there. He was there, however, snuffling at her feet. Satisfied, she set off again, cresting over a rise- and stopping.

Blood thrummed in her ears again, pounding a rhythm. Carver came up behind her and stopped at her side and Lyla struggled to keep her face impassive. He squinted down at the swarm of darkspawn surrounding a red-haired woman and the templar. They hesitated at the top, for different reasons, as the darkspawn took him by surprise and crippled his arm. And then Aveline- for it was she - punched the darkspawn in the face, dragged the templar away, brandishing the sword and shield. Lyla snapped out of her daze then, and lurched forwards suddenly, brandishing the staff. Carver startled, but rushed after her.

"And here we go again!" Lyla cried as she threw a fireball at the nearest darkspawn, the words truer than anyone around her could know. The story repeated around her, and she was struggling with saying the right lines. Nothing seemed to come easily in this dream. Attack, defend, attack, darkspawn, darkspawn, ogre, dar- Ogre! There it was, the Fade had finally tormented her enough and gotten to this part.

It was just as ugly as she remembered, charging the group and everyone scattering. Bethany still ended up next to Mother, and then the Ogre reached down- Lyla couldn't look away. She relived it all, as Beth was lifted up and brought down, her body smashed into the ground. The hollow thing that used to be her was flung to the side.

Letting out a cry of anger, she threw a fire-ball at the behemoth's face. The ogre let out a roar of pain, and lashed out with it's horns. She had been standing too close- one of the spikes caught her, and sent her tumbling to the ground. Lyla gasped, striking the floor, and the staff skittered away. Vaguely, one could hear Carver let out a fearful cry as the Ogre brought it's foot down. What followed was her Mother's voice, asking her to wake up. Except, that couldn't be right.


	3. Echoes

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

Lyla sat upright suddenly, startling her mother. "Oh! Love, you scared me." Leandra said, placing a hand over her heart.

"Mother?" Lyla mumbled in confusion, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes and clear the grit from her lids. "Didn't you just- w-what's going on?" She looked around her, taking in Carver standing a few paces away and scowling at her. Bethany was in a corner, shoving something into a bag.

"Love, we have to leave before the darkspawn comes. Get up!" Mother wrapped her arms around Lyla's shoulder and forced her to stand. Lyla, still confused, bumbled about, fingers searching for her staff. Once it was in her hands, she allowed herself to be forcefully evicted from the house. Carver was the one to do it this time, pushing her in front of him.

"What's wrong with you?" He sneered, dancing nervously behind her. "You're acting weird. We need to move."

"Right," Lyla agreed easily, and moved faster so that she was in front. The rest of her family fell in behind her, moving at a fast pace. The world seemed so clear, not shifting or moving just like before. Why was this happening again? She always woke up before, never restarted the nightmare.

Dream, dream, dream. Lyla chanted in her head. The Fade is cruel. Or was it a Demon, sinking into her mind and battering her will? Or was she in the seat of the Maker, having displeased him enough to suffer through her failings again and again, able to change the course but not the destination? Too many options, and those were only the most possible, most simple ones. She gripped her old staff tighter, feeling something dig into her palm and bringing her back into the moment.

Mother collapsed. Darkspawn swarmed around. Death, death, blight, Carver's war-cry, Bethany's magic, Mother's frightened face. Everything seemed to swirl around her, and she barely kept up with it, saying what she remembered. When she saw the familiar face of Aveline, she shook her head and came-to. Aveline's husband said some Chantry lines, and Lyla slid between him and Bethany to protect her sister.

"The might of the Templars is fearsome indeed," Lyla said in jest, though it sounded strained. She prayed that they would chalk it up as nervousness.

"More so their wives," he said, glancing back fondly at Aveline.

Lyla followed his gaze, and gave the redhead a calculating look. She didn't see anything wrong with the image. It looked just like the guards-captain when they first met. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and nodded at the warrior. Aveline looked surprised, but nodded back.

"Can you keep up?" Lyla asked, turning back and giving Wesley the Look. Uppercase letter, she had practiced this look for several years in Kirkwall. It said 'Stay away from my group or you die.' Varric had said it was very effective, almost as good as Aveline's glare. It must still be, because he flinched slightly.

Or wait- had Varric said that? Maybe Varric wasn't real. Maybe this whole thing was a dream. Perhaps there was no blight, and she had never been to Kirkwall. That was a scary thought. One that she tossed through her head a bit as they moved on and met the Ogre.

She made sure that she ended up next to mother this time. The blighted thing still turned to them, snarling. She tried throwing a lightning-bolt, feeling the magic jump strangely through her staff. The ogre spasmed slightly, and then roared. Meaty hands closed around Lyla's middle as she let out a cry.

Carver screamed something, and Lyla was brought down to the ground hard. More than several bones broke, and the pain was so much that she didn't feel it. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the ogre lifted her up, and brought her down again. The ground rushed up to meet her eagerly.

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

She sat up, contemplating as her mother fussed a bit over her, urging her to get up. Lyla didn't wait this time, instead just picking up her staff and looking at Bethany and Carver impassively. Her brother was still scowling, Bethany nervously packing. Again.

Lyla felt something akin to dread well up inside her.


	4. City of Chains

Lyla smothered a feeling of triumph as she jerked her magic back into place. The lightning-bolt arched beautifully from her staff, slamming into the hurlock. Her staff hummed in her hand, bending to her will even as she changed to match it. Magic flowed unopposed, unaltered. The familiar rush overtook her as she twirled her staff and cracked a skull open with its end. She didn't dare feel proud.

When the magic had faded into silence, she lowered her staff. Sweat dripped into her eyes, bidding her to blink away the droplets. Glancing around her warily, she raised her thumb to her lips and bit on the tip. Her eyes flickered to her mother, and then carefully averted their gaze. She dropped her hand to her side, and turned to something else- namely a chest.

Scowling, Lyla walked up to the chest. Giving it a practice kick, she looked at the thing in disgust. "Carver?" She called to her brother. "Can you smash this open, or something?" Her brother looked up with frowning and came over. He deftly raised his sword over his head, and brought it down on the chest. There was a crack, and the wood splintered open. Both of the siblings flinched back as wood pieces flew through the air.

Lyla looked back at the remains of the chest, tentatively. A pair of battered boots peeked out from between the wood splinters, as well as a bottle filled with the classic red liquid of a health potion. She licked her lips, and closed her eyes in defeat.

She had never opened the chest before. There should be no memories of it holding anything. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and picked up the boots. They were a common enough design, if a bit beat up. She looked at them for a second, before dropping them and picking up the health potion instead.

"Well, lets move on shall we?" She said, trying to sound cheerful. She straightened up, tucking the potion out of sight. Carver gave her an odd look as they started moving again. She could not fault his attitude.

Goose-bumps went across her arms, and she shivered and resisted the urge to hug herself. Everyone was set on edge by the vibes she was sending out with her body language. They were on their toes when Lyla tip-toed across the earth, glancing around nervously and gripping her staff.

The ground vibrated under her feet, making her freeze. It was so obvious once she looked for it, and that made her feel a bit sick. Her companions and family looked around them, thick nervous energy buzzing through the air. Points crested over the next rise.

They scattered as horns slashed through the place they had clustered. The ogre stood up from it's charge, letting out a roar as saliva dripped from its deformed maw. Cold fingers danced up Lyla's spine as the monster swung it's head. Bethany stood in front of mother, looking determined. The younger sister mumbled a prayer, cast a spell-

Lyla's heart was battered at again, watching as her first major mistake replayed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the way she couldn't feel the ground underneath her. Her mind almost shut down for a half a beat, but some deeper, primal part of her growled out in the back of her mind and kept her aware. Her staff was brought up, and she scrambled to come up with something to help, watching her baby brother let out an angry battle call and charge the ogre. Her lips took up a half-forgotten chant as her brain struggled to pull up what used to be a seemingly unimportant spell.

A green glow appeared underneath the ogre, taking the form of a glyph. The arm of the ogre froze in mid-swing, just barely stopping before it hit Aveline. Lyla stumbled to the still form of her sister, trying valiantly to keep half of her attention on the glyph so that it didn't collapse prematurely. Her knees felt like they wanted to give out when she saw the damaged up-close, but she forced herself to stay up and focus on the fight.

Though she was tossing a few lightning-bolts when she saw the chance, Lyla mostly healed the two warriors intermittently, keeping them in such a state that they could hack away pieces of flesh. Cries of battle and sprays of blood echoed as adrenaline roared in everyone's ears.

Then, all at once, the fight was done.

Standing bewildered, the group looked around at the corpses surrounding them as if they couldn't believe the fight was over. Weapons were dropped, heaving breaths slowed down. Energy still buzzed in their muscles, however it was ready to flee at the first sign of rest.

"Bethany!" Mother wailed, and all attention snapped to her. "Love, the battles over. Everyone's fine. Wake up! Wake up..." Bethany wouldn't wake up.

Later, Lyla found her back pressed against the wooden insides of a ship's hull, her eyes staring blankly at the other refugees around her. Every once in a while she would reach out an arm and rub her mother's back comfortingly, trying to chase away the woman's sobs. Not many words were exchanged between the Amells, and Lyla spent most of the trip quietly talking to Aveline and re-learning about her. It was a painful trip.

Sometime during the trip, the group moved so that they were sitting underneath the grate. Lyla often stared up at the sky, hopeful for the glimpses of the cliffs of Kirkwall. When the metal image of the weeping slaves came into sight, she let out a small sigh and her head dropped back against the mast. The irony was not lost on her. It was a silent affair as the boat skated across the water and into the docks. Ravens screamed as the ship passed them. One could just about hear the ominous background music...

Lyla's group stayed together as they exited the boat. People scrambled about around them, falling into the arms of loved ones, or just trying to get to a spot to puke out whatever food their stomach was blessed with. Aveline looked on as the group made their way to the gates, the warrior's face stern.

"They're not letting anyone into the city." Aveline remarked coldly.

Leandra looked up, her face terrified. "What?" She said shrilly, her hands gripping her dress. "That can't be!"

"It's true." Lyla said, eyes slitting against the sun. "Look at them all..."

Indeed, there was a mass of people in front of the gate, raising their voices in an attempt to be heard over the others. Ruffians crowded around some poor chaps in uniforms, pushing against each other in an attempt to get into the city. Several other people were hovering nearby, trying to decide if it was worth joining the fray.

"Are we really surprised?" Carver said in contempt, pushing his way past Lyla. He turned to look back at Leandra, making a wide gesture at the crowd. "Everyone's fleeing the blight, just as we are."

"And they would throw us all back to the wolves. Unbelievable." Aveline shook her head in disgust as Lyla shuffled forwards to stand between them.

"So long as we're all safe, that's more important," was Lyla's heartfelt declaration. Leandra scoffed slightly, setting a fist against her hips.

"We need to find Gamlen," Leandra insisted. "Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall. He can do something, I'm sure of it!" She nodded to herself forcefully while Lyla and Carver sighed. Aveline gave the two siblings a look, seeming to understand.

"Let us hope he received your letter, then," Carver mumbled, sparing a glance at the crowd.

"The guards are reporting to that man over there." Lyla said, pointing at the unlucky sap who got saddled with the tedious job. "We should go speak to him." She led the way over to the crowd, and the warriors pushed and shouldered people aside until they found themselves in the front, blinking dumbly at the scowling guard. Lyla put the end of her staff against the ground and leaned on it as if it was a walking stick or crutch.

"Get back to the crowd, you lot!" The guardsman snapped bitterly, raising his hands in a 'stop' gesture. "Trying to bully your way through won't get you into Kirkwall any faster!" He sounded irritated and tired. Lyla might've felt bad for him if he wasn't standing in her way.

"But you do intend to let us in?" Aveline pressed, leaning over the guard.

The man sneered at her, crossing his arms and listing to one side arrogantly. "Huh! We have enough poor of our own in the Free Marches. We don't need you refugees piling up here like a m-"

"There must be someone in charge we can speak with!" Lyla cut him off insistently, eyes widening slightly.

The guard sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Yes, yes, always the same story." He shifting to one side slightly and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You want in, you go talk to Captain Ewald. I'm just here to keep you refuse from climbing the walls."

"And you're doing a fine job of that," Lyla assured him. "But I think I saw some people talking about taking some sort of "Undertown" entrance to get in, over a bit to the west..."

"Maker, really?" The man wrinkled his nose as the group walked past. "Andraste's tits, they're getting desperate. I'll probably have to go send someone to find them, too." He sighed heavily just before Lyla started up the stairs. The mage fought valiantly to keep from grinning. Instead, she took in the lovely decorations of slaves on the walls. That really helped dim her mood.

"Tell me," Aveline piped up suddenly as they were walking though the passage, "how did you escape Lothering? Almost everyone else had fled."

"My sister." Carver said bluntly. Lyla felt like shivering when she felt his hard gaze settle on her back. "If she wasn't with us, I don't think any of us would be here."

Lyla blushed slightly, ducking her head at the compliment. Even if he was glaring at her back, it was still nice to be recognized.

"But you seem quite skilled as well..."

"I'm not my sister."

"O-KAY! Good talk" Lyla interrupted, "But look-it now, a large group of armed people over there causing a fuss with a guard. Bad, right? Right. Let's focus on that..." She set her face and wobbled over to there, acting the poor cripple.

"What do you want?" She head the deserter's leader's voice drift into her ear as they got closer. "Money? I can pay you. No? Let us through, you flaming blighter! We're not staying in this pit!"

"Then get back on your ship and leave!" Ewald growled, making a jabbing motion back towards the docks. "Kirkwall has no more room for refugees!"

"The ships already gone. We paid good coin to be here!" The leader snarled again, bringing himself up and height as much as possible and trying to intimidate the guard.

Maker's breath, but these people are stupid. Lyla thought as she came up to them.

"You and half of Ferelden. There's nothing I can do! The city is full!"

Lyla's face lit up when the guard glanced at her. "Ah, but surely there's a bit of extra room for the pretty people?" She said cheerfully, gesturing towards herself. The guard frowned at her disapprovingly, making her grin slip slightly.

"I find keeping my neck away from Knight-Commander Meredith's blade far more attractive than any of you," He told them sternly. "We've been letting you Ferelden in for months. You're too late. There's no more room!"

For a second Lyla swore he would stamp his foot childishly into the dirt, but the man didn't.

"But we've got family here!" Carver said from her left, almost making her jump. Instead she just smiled and nodded along.

"I've heard claims like that a thousand times already," the man said, shaking his head. "Trust me. Listen, we'll find some ships to take you back to Ferelden- eventually. Until then, you can stay."

Lyla's smile grew again. "If you find our uncle..."

Ewald looked surprised at her Uncles name, but snorted in amusement when Carver told him jut "who" Gamlen was. "A Nobleman? The only Gamlen I know in a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together. If he comes back, I'll bring him to you. but I don't have time to-"

"What?!" The leader shrieked, pointing at Lyla in anger. "You're going to let the _cripple_ through?"

"I didn't say anything about-"

"We've been here four days, an's they just got here!" One of the lackeys said vehemently.

"The guardsman promised nothing." Lyla said, her voice cutting through the men like a whip.

"Oh, and now the crippled girly is tellin' us what to do? That's it, we're cutting our way out of here! Men, to arms!"

Lyla sighed as the idiot drew their weapons. Vaguely she remembered something like this happening before but nice to get a few reminders now and again showing how stupid people were. Did the men honestly think they could fight through all the city guards, like some sort of invading force? Either way, a good hit to the head might bring them back into reality.

Her staff made a sharp sound as it smacked the leader on the skull. Stunned, he went down, only to have the rest of the desperate deserters turn on her. Carver cursed, coming to stand in front of Lyla with his sword drawn.

Unable to do magic, Lyla didn't do much besides smack a few more people and spear them through the stomach. There was no way she would be casting a spell in front of the perfectly friendly, law-abiding, Chantry-following guard who as practically the only way to get Gamlen to let them into the city.

"Unbelievable." Eswald said in disgust once Lyla toed over one of the bodies to make sure it 'wasn't just pretending' and deemed the area clear of hostiles.

"Captain!" One of the grunt yelped, scrambling up to them. "Are you alright?

"I am, no thanks to you," Eswald growled, giving the grunt the evil eye. "Where is everyone, anyway? Go find them, I want this kept under control!" Sniffing slightly, he turned to look back at the still-smiling mage. "You... have my thanks. Look, I can't get you into the city, honestly. It's not my decision. But, I will find your uncle and bring him here for you."

"Thank you," Lyla said softly as the man turned away and started walking, presumably off to go big important things. She noticed the guard nod at her words, glancing back to show he heard her. Then, they started to play this fun little game, called "the waiting game," which involved sitting around on your butt in the Gallows, surrounded by the stench of despair.

"It's been three days!" Aveling cried in frustration after a long wait. Lyla sat up suddenly, giving her a sharp look. "This waiting has to end."

"I'm sure it won't be much longer!" Leanra insisted, wringing her hands out nervously. "Gamlen must still be looking for us!"

"And if he's not?" Aveline demanded, throwing up her hands. "What do we do?! Board the next boat, back to a blighted land?!"

Lyla's eyes slid to one side on cue, and she pulled herself to her feet. "Don't look now," she said coyly, "but I think that's our man."

Leandra let out a relieved gasp, and started towards Gamlen with purposeful strides. Uncle's eyes widened when he saw her. "Leandra!" He cried, spreading out his arms invitingly. He started towards them with an un-even gait. "Damn, girl! The years haven't been kind to you!"

"Gamlen!" Mother wailed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Lyla sighed at her mother's dramatic antics.

"L-let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this. The blight, your husband-" He drew back, shaking his head, "-dead. I'd ah, figured you'd pretty much be a Ferelden for life!"

"Oh, Gamlen!" Mother sobbed, holding a hand over her mouth. "We've come too late! My darling Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her poor soul!" She looked back over to her other children, then looked at Gamlen again.

"Oh Maker save me," Gamlen mumbled, then continued in a louder voice; "Leandra, don't drop this on me here. I don't even know if I can help you get in!"

"Would it help if I said you were my favorite Uncle?" Lyla said cheekily, though her heart as racing. They would be able to get in this time, right...?

Gamlen chortled. "It'd make me feel better, but that's about it." The man said bitterly. "I was hoping to grease some palms... but the Knight-Commander has been cracking down. We're going to need more grease."

"But... what about the estate?" Mother said in horror, looking at her brother with wide eyes. "Surely Father must have left _something_ when he died?!"

"Right!" Gamlen immediately looked guilty. He glanced to one side nervously. "About the estate. It's, uh... gone. To settle a debt. I mean, I've been meaning to write you, but..."

"Then there's no hope," Mother bemoaned, hanging her head in her hands.

"Not quite!" The uncle said quickly, slinging an arm over her shoulder in what might have been a comforting motion.

And that was how Lyla found herself standing in front of Meeran a second time as the man sneered down at her. One dead Friedrick later, and she could happily report that they could _obviously_ kill the man, why do you ask?

"Good!" Meeran sneered "May the vultures feast on his corpse and shit him into the ocean!"

Carver joked about the colorful language their new employer was using, and Lyla gave her brother a fond look over one should while he wasn't paying attention. Everything was playing out just fine, just like what she could remember of last time.

All that was left to get into the city was to tell mother.

"Any luck?" Gamlen demanded as Lyla meandered towards them with her classic grin on her face.

"Was there ever really any doubt, Uncle?" She said cheekily.

Gamlen and Mother relaxed, looking relieved. "I'll speak with Meeran and ask when the bribes can be made. Wait here..." He started off eagerly, Lyla's amused gaze following him.

"Huh. I guess we did it." Carver said, squinting suspiciously at Gamlen as the weasel drew up to Meeran. "We're here to stay, at least for a while."

"No more running for our lives unless we really have to," Lyla agreed easily, leaning on her staff.

"If only Bethany was here with us," Mother said mournfully, making Lyla flinch slightly.

"And Wesley," Aveling added.

Lyla didn't answer in favor of watching Gamlen approach the guards. "Well, we're off to a fantastic start!" She declared, flashing everyone a reassuring grin. "Let's see what else this city has in store for us!"


	5. Ties

"Hi-ho, hi-ho, up Sundermount we go!" Hawke sang, dancing from one rock to another. Carver grunted in disgust behind her, his heavy armour forcing him to slog through the mud. The mage just cackled gleefully at her brother's apparent distress. "WAIT!" She cried, freezing. "Do you hear that?!"

The warrior froze, holding his breath as he listened. They both waited with bated breaths. "I... don't hear anything," Carver hissed after minute, shifting uncomfortably and reaching up to grasp his sword.

"I know," Hawke sighed blissfully. "Isn't it wonderful? No shouting, no haggling, no one vomiting. Just..." She spread out her arms, "nature."

"That's constantly trying to kill us, yes." Carver said spitefully, causing his sister to scoff and stick her tongue at him. "Don't deny it, sister," he warned. "This may be a way to get out of town during the Templar search, but it's still dangerous." He scowled at her again, feeling a bit put-upon for her little 'joke.'

"You have no sense of humor," Lyla grumbled, scuffing her boot against the ground.

"And you have no survival instinct," Carver returned.

"It's true!" Lyla cried dramatically, laying a hand on over her heart. "If it wasn't for you, dear brother, I would be but a corpse floating in the water!" _Or sitting on a ship, returning to Kirkwall for the third time..._

"Never fear, big sister!" Carver suddenly said, equally dramatic, and startled Lyla. "For I will protect you from the big bad monster that tries to eat you!" He threw his arms out for effect, smirking.

Lyla laughed in delight at getting him to play along, clapping her hands childishly. But she saw Carver's mouth went lax, brows furrowing. His arms dripped slightly, making Lyla freeze, her smile disappearing. The sound of a sword being drawn echoed behind her as she met the fear-filled eyes of her brother.

She spun on her heels, bringing up her hand in preparation to cast a spell. Carver was behind her suddenly, his own sword out.

"Can we help you?" Lyla drawled, taking in the small group of men standing in front of her. _Bandits,_ she thought in disgust, eyeing the ragged armour they were wearing. They leered at her, one of them crossing his arms and looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. Her good mood was gone.

"Why yes, sweetie," The Leader said in much the same way she had, jutting his chin out. "If you would be so kind to hand over all your coin and weapons..." He trailed off, sneering. It appeared that leering and sneering were the default expressions that they had...

Well. That and fear. Which was the expressions on their face when they suddenly blossomed into flames.

"That was fun!" Lyla said cheerfully as Carver finished cutting the last one in half from where the bandit had been writhing on the ground. Her brother stood still a minute as she brushed imaginary dust from her gloves, the tip of his sword resting on the ground. "Is something wrong?" she asked when she saw him staring at her.

"Ah-!" He shook himself slightly. "No, let's just... go." He shouldered past her, continuing up the path. She hesitated, looking back at the bandits they left on the ground. She bent down to yank a purse off one of them, before scrambling after him.

The rest of the walk up the mountain was silent save for their foot-falls.

* * *

Lyla was a bit irritated. She still had no idea what Merrill was holding when they approached her(was it Merrill really?), but those whispers... it set her on edge. She had forgotten about those whispers, about the way Merrill acted when she first met her. Asking if it was polite to ask for a name? No. This wasn't the Merrill that stood with her against the Templars, just as the boy behind her wasn't the same man who followed her into battle against Meredith.

It wasn't fair.

Turning her face away from them as they walked up the mountain, she tried to figure out what this could mean. It pressed on her mind as she struck down skeletons and spiders, throwing up a well-placed shield to stop her brother from being cut into pieces by an Arcane Horror.

The Not-Merrill called forth Flemeth from the amulet, and Lyla stepped forwards with many questions on the tip of her tongue. _After all, even in a Nightmare, the famed Witch of the Wilds would understand!_ She thought desperately, praying to the Maker, to the Creators, to anyone that could hear her that there was some reason in this madness. The words died on her lips as the witch took one look at her and held up a hand to stop her words.

"I can not help you with this, child," Flemeth said first thing, producing a dismayed sound from Lyla, "But I do know what it is that haunts you." She gave Hawke a pitying look, but offered no comfort. "This will continue on until your use is fulfilled. I can only say: try to enjoy your new chances."

Lyla closed her watery eyes and turned her face away as Flemeth turned into a dragon and left them there, at the top of the mountain with only the wind from her wings and a broken amulet left behind. She laughed, soft and bitter, as she heard her companions scramble back in surprise. "This is like a bad story that Varric likes to tell," she whispered as the gust died down around her, leaving nothing.

She took a deep breath, plastered on her most reassuring smile, and turned to face her not-brother. "Come on," she said, feigning relaxed ease, "lets get down off this mountain before a cloud comes and eats us, or something equally unpleasant happens."

She slung an arm over both of their shoulders, steering them back the way she came. She only spared a single glance back, before focusing on the path ahead of her.

There was nothing else to do, now.

* * *

They returned to Kirkwall with Not-Merrill in tow, delivering her safely in to the clutches of the alienage. While not surprised, Lyla was a bit amused that the elvhen managed to get Lyla to agree to visit her. _I'm doing it to make sure that this Not-Merrill doesn't fall too far into blood magic,_ Lyla told herself, _that she doesn't loose the way._ It was a good enough excuse in her head to let her go back home.

Well, not home. Not really. It was actually Not-Gamlen's home, with the fleas and the stains and the something -she didn't want to know what it was!- that was moving in the corner. It made her uncomfortable to be there, it made Not-Carver uncomfortable to be there, it even made **Chomp** uncomfortable to be there. It was probably due to the smell.

But _Mother_ was there, or the best representation of Mother, and she liked it when they were home. So Lyla just smiled and accepted it, like she was oft to do. She went home, listened to Not-Carver tell _Mother_ about their day, fed the dog, checked her staff. Just like the night before. Just like always.

_And always and always and always until the Maker gets tired of having m-_ Lyla turned off the little voice in the back of her head as she gingerly lied down on her bed and hoped the bed-bugs didn't bite too much that night.

"That was fun," She said once Not-Carver settled down next to her.

"Which part?" He grumbled, shifting around in a futile effort to get comfortable. "The part where we helped an apostate mage or the part where spiders tried to eat our face off?"

"The part where you played with me," Lyla said truthfully. "Back on the mountain, before the bandits."

Not-Carver stilled next to her, the only sounds in the room were the breathing of the Amell family.

"Good night," Lyla whispered, rolling onto her side and faced away from him. "Good dreams."

"Good dreams, sister," Carver echoed. "Watch out for demons in the Fade."

Lyla closed her eyes when she felt the tears building, and tried to focus on falling asleep.


	6. Empty Echoes

**Nightraze** Thank's for the reviews!

* * *

It had been a very beneficial year for Meeran, ever since he had agreed to take the Hawke siblings into the Red Iron. The younger brother was strong, if a bit rough and stubborn. He fit right in with the rest of the warriors, roaring and fighting and picking up curses left and right. Like a bull, that one, and when he was leashed then he was a fine asset.

The older one- the mage, however... she was a prize. A leader, that one. She knew who-did-what and when-this-was and what-went-where. She held her brothers leash, as loose as she did, and while he appeared to fight her every step of the way it always went in the favor of the older sibling.

What with her throwing spells out like candy, and that quiet look in her eye, Meeran knew without a doubt that if she wanted to she could easily take over the Red Iron. He would be kicked out immediately, if not outright killed. With the amount of jobs and trust he shoved on the wayward siblings, she could just poison him and grab the leadership for herself. None of those thick-headed mercenaries he lorded over would be any wiser to it.

And such, Meeran was very very** very** grateful that she didn't usually appear at all interested in taking the job. Instead she merely followed orders and did the jobs and counted off the days she had left. It was a damn shame that they were only under his service for a year.

* * *

Lyla seriously considered letting her purse get stolen a second time. Really, she did. For Varric- or Not-Varric. Because how else would the dwarf make a stunning rescue/entrance? It was only befitting of the amazing story-telling rogue. But, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to let her money be stolen again.

She stood to the side of Not-Carver, and the fake purse she had was on the side next to him. The only real money she carried, however, was tucked underneath her robe yet still easily accessible. She side-stepped the little thief, briefly watching his eyes widened in surprise before he was past her. She swiveled her head to watch as the boy kept running, disappearing behind a corner.

"What was that about?" Not-Carver mumbled, shifting uneasily next to her.

"I don't know," Lyla lied. "Let's just go home. This is a bust. We're never getting on that expedition."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that!" A familiar voice purred next to her, making her freeze.

_Don't look smug,_ the little voice in the back of her head scolded her. _Don't look smug and don't look happy and don't hug him no matter what._

It was difficult to not do those things. It must have been the chest hair. Or maybe Bianca. Lyla smirked slightly, slowly pivoting on her heels to look at Not-Varric. Or no, Varric. Or was it _Varric? Was_ he Varric?

Just stop worrying about it now. Worry about it later, when there is not an impression to make.

"Now, why would you say something like that?" Lyla drawled, looking down at the dwarf. He smirked right back at her, rocking back on his heels.

* * *

**Carver**

"... Where am I?" Carver asked, looking blearily up at the ceiling of Gamlen's house.

"At Gamlen's hovel, in Lowtown, in Kirkwall, Free Marches, north of Ferelden, in Thedas. Would you like to know the time as well?" His sister said flatly, checking over his armour for wear and tear.

"... no..." Carver whispered weakly, throwing his arm over his eyes. "I would like to know how we got here, though. And please don't shout..."

Lyla sighed, gently setting down the knee-cover. "Okay," she told him in a whisper. "We met a dwarf named Varric Tethras, the brother of the other dwarf leading the Expedition we wanted to get onto because we needed money."

"I remember that part," Carver grunted, curling his other hand slightly and raising his arm to squint at her. "What happened then?"

"I was going to talk with him for a bit but you said you were going back to the Red Iron's place for a bit. After the talk I went to find you. You were drunk, so I took you home." Lyla explained in a very level voice, picking up the next piece of armour and looking at it suspiciously. "I'm also pretty sure you got into a bar fight, but do't hold me to that."

"Oh. Okay." Carver rolled over, hunching in on himself in an attempt to block out the light.

"The dwarf wants us to raise fifty sovereigns and find a map of the deep roads, and then he'll let us on the expedition," Lyla added nonchalantly, moving to the next piece. "And we also need to get you better armour. **And** you were babbling something about mum's old estate."

Carver grunted again, not really listening. With a small sigh, Lyla set the piece of metal in her lap and stared at him silently for a long time. The emptiness wrapped around her completely when the candle started to gutter.

"I'm going to be taking extra side jobs for a bit. After we get over our debt to Meeran we can go off and work together. It's going to be hard work, raising that kind of money," Lyla told the curled form of her not-brother. In actuality she was just talking to herself, trying to chase away the silence and the lonliness. "I'm glad you're here to help. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I'm... I'm sorry I'm a mage."

Carver grit his teeth and glared off into the strengthening dark, silent and pretending to sleep. After a while, he felt his sister settle into the bed.

He told himself it was better this way.

* * *

"Wait!" Carver said, reaching out to stop Lyla before she opened the door. "Wait. We shouldn't. Not now..."

His sister gave him the oddest look, hand still ready to push open the door. "Come again?" She asked, confused. "I thought this was your idea."

"Yes, well-" Carver groaned slightly. "I'm sober now. Last night I had to much to drink. And didn't you say yourself I needed new armour? We have no idea who is in there, and since I have a hang over now isn't the best time for this." Maker, but he hated his sister some times. He loved her, but he hated her, and she was just... her. Yes, she had changed since the flight from Lothering, but she was still her, with her brash trusting nature and her spontanious, crazy plans that some how worked out. "Please?"

"Carver-" She whined, giving him a wide-eyes, innocent look. "It'll be fine. I promise I'll protect you from all of the big-badies."

"Maker, last time one of us said that we go jumped by bandits!" Carver said, giving a sharp bitter laugh. "It was just the other day!" He sobered up when he saw her earnest look. "Sister, please, can we just come back in a week? When I haven't been drinking recently?"

"You're always drinking, ever since we joined up with the Red Iron." Lyla pointed out not-so-helpfully, though she locked the door to the cellar again. "Maker's Breath, but did we come all the way down to Darktown for nothing? Let's go talk to Varric about a job, then. We'll go into the estate later."

Carver let out a relieved sigh, following after his sister. Mostly he hated her, other times he loved her. Sometimes, though, just sometimes, he tried his damndest to do the best for her. And walking through an estate filled with slavers was definitely not the best option right then. But then again, neither was walking back through Darktown.

Lyla didn't hestitate in her step during the entire trek through the underground slums, walking forwards with power and purpose, looking like she just **itching** to start trouble. Carver didn't think she was, not really, but it did send everyone scuttling out of their way and some of the more dangerous-looking ones slinking back into the shadows. If the way they moved didn't send people running, then Lyla's mage-staff and his sword surely did. They emerged out of the darkness unscathed and unchallenged.

His sister was a genius. Times like this he felt like an-

* * *

"-impossible, crazy idiot!" She was sobbing, her blurry face hovering over him. Something wet that wasn't rain fell onto his cheek- she was crying. "Please, **please**, get up. Carver! I can't- I can't, please Maker no I don't know any healing spells! Carver! Don't do this to me!"

His tongue was thick and dry, his lips refused to part. His eyes slid closed just after a figure loomed above her, weilding a bare blade. Darkness embraced him, and he floated in it, feeling light and a great power washed over him as if the Mak-

He looked up in surprise when his sister woke up with a small cry, sitting straight up and startling Mother. He scowled, seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Sweetheart," Mother begged, "please, the darkspawn are coming!"

His sister looked around at each of them with wide eyes. Even Bethany stopped to give her an odd look. "Right," Lyla said, sounding hollow. She stared at Carver especially long, before shaking herself and standing up. "Darkspawn..." She echoed.

She gripped the staff that Mother offered to her, smiling uneasily. No one asked any questions as she led them out of Lothering, away from the approaching horde.


	7. Swords and Shields

_**-Swords and Shields-**_

Shields. Magical barriers. Lyla wanted to bang her head against the nearest hard surface- but considering that was the Wesley's armour that wouldn't be the best idea. So the man just stood there without her face against him, looking in morbid fascination as the ogre smashed it's fist into a barrier and bellowed in pain when it bounced off.

The shield shattered immediately after that, of course, but by then the Bethany was already by Lyla's side. Her 'precious baby sister' was shivering in fear, crumpled to the floor but Maker she was **safe**. Safe. Nothing in the world could compare. _Except maybe the giant monster charging her._

"Oh are you kidding me?!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. Not-Carver looked frankly terrified, though if it was at her or the ogre could be debated. The world refused to give her a moments respite? Fine, she could live with that- but the ogre wouldn't. Oh, no, it definitely wouldn't. It had to go.

Now she was sure that the terrified look that the others had was because of her. She understood, however. She had let her magic get a hold on her, which was a Very Bad Thing. But it worked, it worked, by the Ma-

_No._

The Maker didn't have anything to do with this. Belief had not helped her. _Don't tell that to the Templar, though._

Looking around her slowly, she checked off everybody in her group. The Wesley had managed to back himself against a rock, the Not-Aveline standing in front of him with a protective scowl on her face. Not-Bethany was still crumpled at Lyla's feet, both of the mage sisters breathing quickly. Not-Carver was some where on the other side of the flames, but she couldn't see him.

"Carver?" She called, trying to squint past the greasy smoke. "Carver?!"

"I'm alive!" He shouted back. A blurry figure moved on the other side of the black smog, waving it's arm. Lyla assumed it was the Not-Carver. "Is Bethany okay?"

Everyone was alive. Everyone was safe, for once. "I did it," She whispered, tears springing to her eyes. She beamed down at the Not-Bethany. "I did it." Her younger sister just stared up at her, still shaken. "Everyone's alive!"

She laughed, a bitter broken burst of sound that caught in her throat more than it made sound. Blinking did little to stop the tears, but the smile refused to leave.

* * *

She stayed by the Not-Aveline's side through out the boat ride, apologizing profusely about the fact she hadn't, actually, managed to safe everyone. The woman took it pretty well, considering, and didn't blame Lyla. She understood that Wesley had gotten poisoned by the Blight before they even 'met,' and that there was no cure to being a Ghoul.

Lyla actually doubted the part about there not being a cure to the Blight, and made a memorandum to look into that. After all, what was the point of having all the time in the world if you couldn't **do** anything about it? Maybe Lyla could find a way to keep Wesley alive, and the Aveline would be much happier. The Knight-Commanded always needed more Templars to keep the crazy mages in check. Then the Aveline wouldn't need to join the Red Iron with them, since Ser Wesley was a Templar and could get into Kirkwall just because of that.

Lyla didn't think that the Aveline liked being in the Red Iron. Mercenary business didn't fit the red-head, but a smuggler's life did even less. The Not-Carver seemed perfectly happy with it, however, and the Not-Bethany just went along with it as long as Lyla stayed close by her side. And Lyla was always by her side. Hardly any job was taken that didn't have the whole group going out together. The Meeran was quick to realize that Lyla really didn't like having her little group separate, and was 'nice' enough to make sure it didn't happen very often. She wasn't taken any chances. And if that meant she had to make her "boss" piss himself, then that is what will happen.

In the mean time, she practiced with her magic, trying to make stronger barriers, or more barriers, or bigger ones that would encompass more than one person. She tried to change the barrier from just magic to one of fire, or ice, or one that would explode into lightning. It wasn't really successful, and she was getting a bit irritated with her magic. One point, she threw down her staff and started cursing at it, claiming to hate magic and it's useless unpredictability.

That was also when she learned that the people in the Red Iron were a lot more sly -and bored- than she thought. Especially the rogues. She wasn't actually sure what they were trying to do after her tantrum until she was standing in a ring with a dagger in her hand.

* * *

Fighting with blades was clumsy work for her. Being a mage, she wasn't used to movements like that. Mostly her teachers laughed at her attempts. The Not- Carver did as well. But Lyla did try, going through the exercises anyone would show her, listening to everyone's advice. It was mostly a game to people, a point of amusement. She didn't let that deter her. She was still terrible by the time the year was up, but at least she could fight a little bit with a dagger and didn't have to rely only on her stupid, unpredictable magic.

"I **am** going to learn how to fight," she told the Not-Carver one day when he was drunk and had fallen out of his chair laughing at her. "And not just with magic."

"You almost took out his eye!" The Not-Carver howled back, his words almost unintelligible. "He was standing behind you!"

The Not-Bethany just smiled shyly from her position next to the Not-Carver. It was clear she agreed with him, no matter what she said or did.

"You're crazy," Aveline informed Lyla as the warrior stooped down to help the Not-Carver back into his seat. "We only have a few weeks before our year is up. Nothing will change in that time."

Lyla puffed out her cheeks in a pout, gripping her borrowed daggers. Her shoulders slumped, she returned them to the ever-patient Klaus. _I'll just learn more next time,_ she thought. _I have all the time in the world._ "Okay, fine. I'll stick with magic for now."

Every one nodded in approval, though some of the rogues looked sad that their fun had ended.

* * *

"What, seriously?" The Varric said, looking at Lyla like she was nuts. "You want to know how to Stealth? What kind of mage are you?"

The Not-Carver snorted next to her. "I thought you said you knew about us?" He taunted the dwarf. "You agreed to work with us and you didn't check to see who we are first?"

"Well, I did!" The Varric said defensively. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I thought everyone knew that Lyla is obsessed with becoming a rogue," the Not-Bethany asked innocently.

"I thought everyone knew she was crazy and should avoid her," Aveline countered, "and yet here he is." This made the Varric look uncomfortable. Feeling pity, the red-head decided to explain. "Hawke is obsessed with learning to fight like a rogue. She says her magic is 'stupid and unpredictable.' "

"I'm feeling the love!" Lyla said in a melodramatic fashion, putting a hand to her forehead and pretending to swoon. "Oh, the love! It's making me faint!"

The Varric put his face in his hands, sighing. "What have I signed up to? I shit you not, you people are the weirdest I have ever met."

"You should have done more research on us," the Not-Carver said sagely, nodding all wise-like and actually sounding smart.

"Shut it junior," the dwarven rogue hissed.

"I'm so glad we're all getting along," Aveline said sarcastically, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

Lyla, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that she had lost control of the situation, tried to steer it back to more rogue-related topics. Specifically, how to Stealth. But then she remembered something that they had neglected to tell the Varric. "Oh! Something else you should know." She smiled sheepishly at the suspicious look that the dwarven rogue immediately gave her. "There's actually another person that goes on our adventures with us occasionally. She's a Dalish-elf mage named Merril. She's sweet, but a bit naive and scatterbrained."

The Varric groaned something that sounded suspiciously like "there's more of you?"

"Don't worry," Lyla said comfortingly, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Soon, you'll be as crazy as us."

"It is pretty contagious," Not-Bethany agreed. The two warriors nodded along.

The Varric, looking like he might cry, quietly went through his reports again. Only the repeated assurance that these people were one of the best at what they do kept him from calling the whole thing off. But Maker, did he hope that those reports were correct.

* * *

"Andraste's tits!" The Varric yelped in surprise, staring with wide eyes at the small pile of corpses. "Maker, but that was fast!"

The group looked at the rogue in amusement. Their latest foe was only a small group of Dart bandit's, not something that was to write home about. Lyla went about, methodically looting the corpses like usual, Chomp right at her heels. The dwarf just looked on with amazement as the warriors stood guard, cleaning their weapons like usual and making sure no one was still alive.

"I could be in the barracks right now," the Not-Aveline grumbled like usual.

"Aveline, you know you love coming out with me!" Lyla told her, like usual. "Besides, it's a much faster way of getting rid of all the big-baddies that live in Kirkwall."

The guards-woman gave her a slightly disgruntled look, but ultimately dropped it. Lyla hid a grin by facing the dismembered cadaver in front of her. It was just another girl's night out for the two.

"Can we go home now?" The Not-Carver whined. "The jobs done and I'm hungry." No one could disagree with him. After shuffling around for a bit, they conceded to his point and trudged off.

"You're still the weirdest people I've every met," the Varric informed them as they all made their way back to the Guard's Barracks to drop off the Not-Aveline. He didn't sound nearly as distressed the second time.

* * *

There was an unspoken agreement between the two twins and the Not-Aveline. It was never said aloud, but both sides knew the price if they didn't hold to it. Lyla pretended not to notice it, but it was always** there**. The way they acted, the meaningful glances, how they changed.

So, she was "crazy." That was fine. But she didn't allow that to interfere with her battle prowess, or the safety of the others. **Nothing** came above protecting the rest of the group, and they all understood that. They also actively tried to go against her.

It was a bit annoying.

They can tell her not to waste all her mana on barriers for them, but that didn't mean she was going to stop. They can try to keep her out of the middle of the fight, but she wasn't going to sit back. They could even try to go on jobs with out her, but she still showed up. The disappointed looks they gave her was not dissuading. They had to be alive to disagree, so Lyla was okay with it.

Meeran didn't take kindly to her threatening him, however. He threw his weight around to show everyone who was in charge. Lyla went off on a job, and when she came back she found off Meeran sent of the rest of the group on a job while she was away. Meeran strutted around like some peacock, sneering down at her. Lyla was angry at her "Boss," but there was really nothing she could do but wait.

And wait. And wait, and wait.

After a few days she realized what Meeran had done.

* * *

The Red Iron mercenary group didn't take kindly to having their leader killed. That was fine. Lyla didn't take kindly to having her party-members killed off, either. Especially if it was just to save face.


	8. Story Teller

Lyla was still a bit mad at the Meeran, and would be the first to admit it. She would also admit that her anger was unjustified, since the Meeran couldn't even remember what happened. The current leader of the Red Iron had no idea who she was aside from the mentions of the Gamlen. It was actually down-right rude of her to let the last happenstance colour her view of the merc, considering that it only happened once. Her anger was petty and pathetic.

She was still mad at him, though. There was no changing that.

The Athenril was more than happy to take the group under her wing, however. As a plus, her new line of work called for more experienced rogues who were also coaxed into helping her. As icing on the cookie, the smuggler was also a wildcat between the sheets, and had the most interesting ideas. Who knew you could teach nugs to do that?

Chuckling to herself at the memory, Lyla leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. Several of the men she was assigned to protect gave her wary glances, but she ignored that. She was getting good at ignoring those kinds of looks.

"Her eyes glow," one of the younger lads muttered, peeking at her over his crate. "You sure she ain't no demon?"

"Ay, she's a Demon all right," one of Lyla's more regularly-assigned men answered mysteriously. "Ya' be glad she' just on our side, ya hear? And hope ne'er to see 'er in a fight. Spekin' of which, 'urry it up."

Lyla's lips twitched, but she didn't stop looking around for trouble. It wouldn't do to get anyone killed.

"Ach, it's just the light," the grey-haired one added, sounding very unconvinced.

* * *

Unlike with merc work, the Merril really didn't have the appropriate skill-set to help with the jobs. The magic elf would sooner skip off to chat with the nearest guard that everyone else was trying to avoid, ultimately bringing attention to the affair. Bless Lyla's good fortune, but the Athenril seemed to find it cute. When the New Boss wasn't hiding her face in embarrassment, she was having another silly, drunken "adventure" with the Merril; usually they also dragged Lyla and sometimes even Bethany along. The entire year was a novelty.

Honestly, Lyla had no idea how to approach the situation.

The jobs were silent and intense, straining the senses so that no one could sneak up on the group. It wasn't the loud, fast clashes of the Red Iron, but the adrenaline was pretty much the same. Lyla and her companions mostly stood guard, keeping a watchful eye and protecting the rest of the group if they ran into any trouble. When they weren't on jobs, the Athenril allowed the group to come over whenever and practice their preferred skills. Aveline and Carver would spar, sometimes with each other, sometimes not. Bethany would practice healing; though there was mostly minor cuts and old wounds available it was still helpful. Lyla- well, she learned to dance. Just not literally, since she already knew how to do a noblewoman's dance.

Lyla had no idea how to approach the situation.

"That's it," the rogues laughed, spinning next to her. "Dance the life away!" Blades flashed in the firelight, bright and sharp as her gaze. Blood roared without the help of magic, spreading warmth through her without sunlight. There was a burn in her arms that had nothing to do with acid and she **loved** every second of it. Her dance partners were her blades, the rhythm was one of precise death. Thundering drumbeats were replaced by silent stealth, but the light footwork and quick movements carried over. The darkness embraced her like a lost lover, carrying her to the goal with eagerness, hiding and helping.

Several times she curled up against Chomp at night, scratching behind his ears and trying to explain the feeling to the only friend she felt she truly listened. Her voice was hushed in awe, but the words could never come properly. The experience was new and exciting, and so much different than the rush of magic.

Lyla had no idea how to approach the situation.

The Varric seemed to understand the rush, but that was not enough. He didn't feel the pressing need to hide in the shadows, protecting and watching and ever, ever scared. The Aveline understood the need to protect, but not the the reason that Lyla had to do it from the shadows. The Carver understood the work from the shadows, but not the need to protect or the thrill of the darkness. The Bethany didn't understand at all, but was at least grateful that Lyla put so much effort into what was "obviously" an attempt to keep everyone even more safe. Words did not help since they tangled, fell, left her to stand there. Lyla wished that they would just explain it to **each other**, but she was more polite than that, and they didn't seem interested anyway.

At least her dog seemed perfectly happy to listen to her try to explain. Lyla must have gone right somewhere.

* * *

"Ugh, it stinks down here," The Carver complained, holding a hand in front of his nose. "If I knew this is what we would be doing, I would have stayed with the smugglers."

Chomp whined in agreement, pressing a wet nose against Lyla's hand. She looked down, smiling sheepishly.

They had come down here to find a former Grey Warden. No one was happy about that. The mood was dark and everyone was grouchy. The Varric looked especially displeased, but that may have to do with the fact he stepped in something unpleasant.

_Obviously, the only option in this case was to sing! That always lightened the mood! Or, catches something on fire. Either/or. Maybe just stick with humming?_

Darktown echoed the sounds back at her, though, so singing would be just perfect if she- _no, no, stick with humming._

The Carver sighed as Lyla started humming an old Ferelden song. Unfortunately, when he breathed in again after he got a good whiff of some rotted corpse tucked in a corner. He gagged and coughed a few times, much to his ire and the others amusement. The Varric teased him about it, and the Bethany tried to get Lyla to sing a sea chantey instead. It was a great improvement from the earlier atmosphere.

Taking that good atmosphere and trying to blow on it, Lyla demanded that they make a bet on what ridiculous thing they would need to do to get the maps. She insisted that it would have something to do with the Templars and the Chantry, the Bethany claimed that it would have to do with living arrangements, Varric bet something lewd, Carver claimed he was surrounded by idiots. They laughed all the way down to the clinic, throwing absurd claims and fanciful tales between them.

There wasn't any laughter after they left the clinic. The Varric was mumbling curses under his breath and the Carver refused to meet anyone's eyes.

"I guess you all owe me some sovereigns," the eldest mage said in jest, but the joke fell flat and smashed it's nose in against the stone floor. No, wait, that was just a passing drunk. Lyla looked at the smear of blood in fascination, stepping over him. The others made a disgusted face and followed her example.

The Carver muttered that "you owe me some too."

Lyla took a deep breath, only to choke much like her brother. This caused a round of giggles, and the atmosphere broke again. They relaxed, at ease in each other's presence.

* * *

"Wait." Lyla held up a hand and halted the group. They all tensed, sinking low into the shadows. Lyla turned to them, her eyes glittering. "Listen," she hissed softly to them, "this is probably going to be a lot of trouble, alright? Be on guard and watch your backs."

The twins nodded, and the Varric looked slightly offended.

"Don't die, or you'll be in big trouble," she warned them sternly. They chuckled, but she was being very serious. The Carver shifted around his straps until he was comfortable, the Bethany hyped herself up and the Varric double-checked Bianca. Once they gave her the 'go' sign, she took a steadying breath and led them over to the Chantry. The group ghosted over the ground, trying to be stealthy and look casual at the same time.

"Just so you know, Varric, if one of my siblings die it's on your head." She murmured just before they arrived. The dwarf grimaced, probably making a silent note to make sure that didn't happen. By then the Anders popped up from behind a pillar, looking worried and tired.

He looked really tired, actually. His shoulders sagged as if the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. Lyla bit the inside of her lip, giving him a hard look.

"You know this is going to go south." It was not a question. No one disagreed with her. They knew the consequences if they were caught. Lyla wouldn't let her family be taken, even if she had to die- again - to keep them safe.

The tension was unmistakeable, vibrating around her, pushing pulling pinning her mind even as it felt like it was a vibrating tangle of threads or water. It caught on her, tying her to the others. This fearful acceptance was something that breached all battles, all lives, all people.

Take a deep breath, take a first step, take away the memories.

* * *

"Are you going to explain the glow-y bit now?"

The Carver elbowed her in the stomach in an unsubtle fashion, but since the Anders was facing away from them at the time she let it go. Her 'little brother' was nervous because he wasn't sure what she would do. Lyla had become unpredictable; she might look at the Anders and see a threat to the Family.

That was actually exactly what Lyla was seeing. Exploding the Chantry was a Very Bad Idea, and caused a lot of trouble. Justice/Vengeance was a Very Bad Thing as well, and was it not the spirit's fault for this entire mess in the first place?

The Anders looked a bit sad when Lyla shuffled a bit so that she was in a better position to protect the people behind her. He- It said that she wouldn't be attacked, that there was nothing to worry about. It offered her the maps to the deep roads and apologies -_ Haha yeah you would know what it's like to get hit by a Smite you BAS_ \- and it had this very hurt, guilty look on it's face. After too long looking at the face, she wanted to pat it's head and make it feel better. She made up for that urge by reaching out to lay a hand on Chomp's head.

Apparently she must have looked calm and more relaxed when she did that, because the Anders looked a little relieved. It was - _burn and fire and music_ \- kind of - _screams and blood and brother_ \- sad. Just a bit.

_There was an emptiness where her stomach should have been, a void where her brother should have been, and all that remained was a high-pitched laugh and crimson-red lyrium._

Just a bit. She could maybe forgive the Anders just a bit if it would please stop **looking at her like that.**

"I hate my life," she confessed to the Varric later, holding a mug in her hand and watching her siblings sip distastefully at the swill the Hanged Man sells.

"Does this have to do with the Warden Mage? Look, we got the maps. What else do you want?" He hunched farther forwards, his quill scratching at the papers in front of him.

"He kept looking at me, with that look, did you see? With that look, and - how can I just forgive him? I can't, but that look- does it remind you of a baby dragon at all? With it's pretty scales and fire."

The Dwarf looked up and stared at her blankly, his quill stopping it's movement. "Right. I forgot that you're crazy."

Lyla sighed into her cup, slowly propping her feet up on the table. "That's not something you should forget."

"You know what you should forget?" The Varric pointed a quill at her, frowning a bit. "You should forget about asking for another drink, that's what. Sod it, but I don't need a repeat of two nights ago."

"It'll make for a great story some day," Lyla offered off-handedly, but sat up to put down the cup. "Just add dragons, and a griffon to balance it out."

The Varric snorted, smiling slightly and shaking his head. His quill went back to his paper, the scratching covered up the sudden raise of volume down-stairs. Lyla let out another soft sigh, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"Varric?" She asked, voice much softer. "What would you do if you had to repeat a part of your life over and over again?"

"I would make a great story out of it?" It was said more as a question than an answer.

"Once there was a family fleeing Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. They had banded together with a Templar and his Fierce red-headed Wife."

"Didn't you already tell me this?" The Varric grumble, but he stopped writing again and the chair creaked as he leaned back.

"While they were escaping, an ogre killed the youngest sister, and in turn was felled by the rest of the group. The Witch of the Wilds came to see who could do such a feat, and offered to take them to Kirkwall- but they had to kill the Templar first, because he was tainted by the Blight. They made it to Kirkwall, and had to join a Mercenary group to get into the city. After working with them for a year, they met this really great dwarf with a crossbow who said he could potentially get them filthy rich."

There was another loud outburst downstairs, and when Lyla cracked her eyes open she could see that er siblings had left the room. The Varric was watching her, however, and looked like he was about to call her crazy again.

"They ran into this mage who was possessed by a spirit of Justice, and received a map from him. They also met this Rivianni pirate captain who sleeps around, and a run-away slave elf with lyrium burnt into his skin, a Dalish mage who secretly had this thing for demons, and a chantry prince. The eldest child of the family went down to the deep roads with the run-away, the dwarf, and the pirate. They found this ancient dwarven thaig that had this evil idol made of red lyruim. The idol drove the dwarf's brother mad, who locked the group in the thaig and they had to find another way out. They found untold riches on the way, however, so jokes on him isn't it? But the younger child of the family runs off to be a Templar." She sat up, leaning towards the Varric. The archer looked a bit uncomfortable and tried to lean away from her.

"So now the Family has some social standing because of the family and only the eldest child remains, and the people of Kirkwall want the elder child to fix all the problems. The problems get really big, though- the Qunari , blood mages, banditry. The old mother of the Family dies because a blood mage was trying to revive his dead lover, and I'm the last one left. But people still want me to solve their problems, and I do, because that's just who I am apparently!" Her voice went up in pitch slightly, and the Varric looked even more uncomfortable. "But because of one crazy sister of the Chantry, the Qunari invades the thrice-damned city, and I end up having to kill the Arishok! I mean, what was I supposed to do, just let him take Isabela? So here I was, Champion of Kirkwall and all high and mighty, and people still want me to solve my problems- everyone but Anders who goes and tricks me into helping him blow up the Maker-forsaken Chantry! So now the Templars are on my Ass, including my brother's, because why can't my life get any worse?!"

She stands up suddenly and kicked a chair, making the Varric jump and shrink back into his chair. He looks at her in fear, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees his hand twitching towards Bianca. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

"So, I get into a fight with Knight-Commander Meredith. Big deal, right? I've beat a dragon, it should eb no big deal. Yeah, except this time I lose- and I lose** everything,** because everyone dies before I do and I watched it happen but I couldn't do anything because I was dying too." She took another breath. "And then I did."

There was a heavy moment of silence as the Varric eyed her warily. "... did what?" He asked slowly after a full minute of no movement.

"I died." She fell back into her chair again, the poster-child of being miserable. "But I woke up again, the day we fled Lothering. And I died again, and woke up again, and died again and again and again."

Seconds ticked by which she spent with her head down staring at her hands. At last, she heard a deep sigh next to her, and when she glanced up the Varri was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That's one sodding story," he offered weakly. She noticed the way his other hand gripped the handle of his crossbow, which ended up in his lap.

"It's okay if you think I'm crazy." She smiled at him, a soft sad thing that made him groan when he looked up and saw it.

"Well... damn. Do you want another drink?"

She shook her head, one hand coming up to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly.

"Okay." The Varric leaned forwards, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. He looked over at her, trying to look stern. "Let's say I believe you-"

"Which you don't." She offered half-heartedly.

"-Which I don't, but let's say I do. How about you tell me who this Isabela was, and why the Arishok apparently tried to take her away."

"She's the Rivianni pirate-captain. She stole one of the Qunari's Very Important Relics and they wanted it back. They also wanted to arrest her and bring her to justice, but I wouldn't let them. She became my friend, y'know?"

"Right," the Varric said slowly. He pulled out another piece of paper, giving me another concerned look. His quill was in his hand in an instant, twirling between his fingers. "Why don't you tell me the whole story. I got all night for you."

Lyla blinked at him owlishly, taken aback. With a broken smile she relaxed into her chair and cleared her throat, thinking back.


	9. Healing

**P.S. To the quest review on March 19,**

**If you're going to ask for better grammar, could you please use it yourself when you ask? It makes me feel a bit insulted.**

**-Thanks,**

**Dai **

* * *

"No, really?!" Lyla gasped, leaning closer to Varric while still trying to walk normally. The dwarf grinned, enjoying the interested sparkle in her eyes. "You made that up!"

"I shit you not, there I was! I saw the whole thing!"

'What are you talking about now?" The Carver sighed, lagging behind with the Anders and looking glum. He wouldn't admit it if anyone asked, but Lyla knew he was in a foul mood because he didn't have enough money to "spend a night" with Faith. She kept her mouth shut when Mother asked her.

"Hush Junior, adults are talking," Varric said dismissively. "But seriously, the guy just swallowed the whole thing!"

"Now I'm curious as well," The Anders mused, quickening it's pace to hear what the two were talking about. The Carver glowered some more, but did the same thing.

Lyla hid a relieved grin, silently noting that the action brought the two 'men' within her barrier's protective potential. If they got jumped suddenly, she should be able to cover their arses until they orientate. Varric shared a look with her, the dwarf still waxing a rather ridiculous story about a man swallowing a sword.

* * *

"I bet he doesn't even know what's going on in his own pants!" The pirate laughed, tossing her head in such that her dark hair sprayed out behind her, a lock falling across her shoulder. Her face looked soft, but her eyes where so quick and calculating. Her tongue flickered out to lick her lips, wet and as sharp as the blade on her back.

Lyla reached over to push her brother's jaw closed. She wiped off the drool that dripped on her hands onto her pants.

"Yes. Men can be like that. They only have enough blood for one head to work at a time." She drawled, glancing to one side to make sure Varric wasn't drooling like the Carver was. The Dwarf was watching them, his grin easy but his eyes quick-sharp as well, like a blade or an arrow _blood coats it when he pulls it out of his-_ It must be a rogue thing. At least there was no drool or an open mouth.

The Isabela laughed again, rocking back on her heels and pushing out her chest _words stutter and annoyance wells as the man's eyes dart behind her, not listening and instead watching what was probably-_ Lyla glanced down in disinterest, wondering bleakly if the pirate did such things on purpose. The Isabela's smile faltered at the apparent lack of reaction.

_Her cheeky smile faltered, the look disappearing from her face. Her eyes widened as a drop of blood as red as her lips dripped from her open mouth._

The pirate asked for Lyla's help (again). Maybe it was the face? It had to be the face. _You just have that face that makes people want to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets._ The rogue-in-training just smiled and agreed to watch her back in the fight. It made the pirate happy, and the dark-skinned beauty slung an arm over Lyla's shoulder and offered a drink.

'"No," the mage-rogue said, mindlessly reaching up to pat the pirate's hand that rested on her shoulder. "I'll keep a level head for the night."

The Carver and Varric laughed, though Isabela didn't understand why. She thought it as perfectly reasonable, even if she wouldn't follow that particular advise.

Lyla shrugged off the arm, quietly excused herself, and retired to Varric's suite. Varric followed after her, but the Carver stayed in the main tavern. Lyla didn't really want to know what her brother was going to do. Her brother didn't have a sex life,_ why would she even think that?_ No. Nope. He was a perfect innocent little angel, just like Bethany. Who had never killed anyone. Ever. Nope,** definitely** not dangerous now. Pft. _Blood and there's a scream from someone and did he just just hack off the wyverns head?!_

"I'm getting good at denial!" Lyla said brightly, shutting the door behind her. The dwarf smiled uneasily at her, telling her something about the best storytellers- something something.

_The best liars believe what they say__._ Wasn't that someone told her once? It's been a few years, now.

Varric wants to know more about what happened. He was unnerved by the meeting with Isabela, but he still wants to think it's a joke that she has set up. She can see it in his eyes _burning with hatred, looking on his brother_ that he doesn't want to believe it. She hand-waves it, not particularly in the mood to explain, and "haven't I already told you that part?"

"I think I'm becoming crazy," she confides once he stopped asking questions, spinning a piece of hair around her finger. "It's scaring me."

He looks up at her, and suddenly it becomes clear for one frozen moment. She looks into his eyes, and she realizes something, which she's realized before but had tried to forget.

This wasn't the same person. This man hadn't shared drinks with her on cold nights, listening to her darkest fears and shameful secrets. He had not leaned on her for support in his most vulnerable moment, he had not sheltered her during hers. This wasn't the same dwarf who fought by her side for eight years. That dwarf is dead.

"Maker's balls!" He yelped, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up too quickly. "Don't cry! Oh shit, shit, I can't handle girls crying! Wait, I have a handkerchief- oh, ancestors kill me now-"

She covered her mouth, hunching in on herself. A desperate laugh bubbled up inside of her. _He was as still as the stone his lineage had worshiped, his precious crossbow shattered nearby under a statue's considerable. She had no time to stop to think about it; she leapt over him in a desperate attempt to get to Carver before Meredith did._

"Please don't die again," she chokes out, blindly reaching out towards his voice. "Maker, you must think me already crazy, but just- **please, **for your own sake at least?"

A warm hand rested against her knee, and even if she can't see well she still knows it's Varric. She blinks rapidly.

"I'm not planning on dying just yet, Hawke." It was stern and confident.

"That's good." She takes his hand between hers and squeezes it. "That's always a good thing."

She forces herself to forget her revelation.

* * *

"Why is it that whenever you say it's a trap, it's ALWAYS a trap?!" The Carver kicked at a discarded helmet, sending it skittering across the stone.

"It's a talent," Lyla lied easily, _her father had lied to her, to his own family, and she vowed never to do such a thing_ trying to figure out why the Isabela had just wrapped her arms around her and was practically plastering herself against the mage-rogue.

"I should keep you!" The pirate squealed, rubbing her cheek against Lyla's own. The Amell looked to the front with a dead-pan expression, trying not to notice the way the Isabela's chest was so soft and warm and- too late. "Ooh, look! You're blushing!"

'Help me,' she mouths to the Anders, who's trying its best not to laugh. Yeah, that's very helpful. Why did she bring it along?

_But sweet Andraste what if things went wrong, and the Carver **and** the Bethany died this time? No no no maybe next time okay sis? I promise._

The Carver isn't as overtaken with the Isabela's chest when it's smothering his sister. Scowling, he comes forwards to pry them apart. "Spoil-sport!" The pirate laughs, letting go and dancing out of reach just as he gets near.

Lyla looks down at herself once the Isabela lets go. Other than a few cuts and bruises, the real injury was a sprained wrist. Shrugging to herself, she shuffles over to one of the bodies to collect one of her daggers that had gotten stuck in it. Just as she pulls it out, there's arms around her again and a chest pressed against her back. She stumbles a bit at the sudden weight.

"How long have you been practicing with your knives of yours?" The pirate purrs, wiggling in such a way that her assets are made very noticeable. "I'd let you stab me, pup." Lyla was sure that meant to come out as seductive.

_Amber eyes opened for the last time, and Lyla only sees her again when they've been closed for minutes already._

"Hey!" The Carver barks, and suddenly Varric's and the Ander's laughter is bouncing against the walls. Lyla's lips twitch up as well, and the Isabela's laugh mixes in as she flounces away from the reddening warrior.

"Let's get drinks!" The Isabela slings an arm over Lyla's shoulder after suddenly materializing at her side. The mage-rogue jolts in surprise.

"Maybe tomorrow," she says nervously, shrugging off the arm and trying not to dwell on the fact she almost just stabbed the Isabela. "I have to get th- Carver home. You know how Mothers worry about stuff like, uh, that." _'Stop touching me,'_ she wants to say. She doesn't get it past her teeth. "We'll meet you at the Hanged Man later?"

"Not me," The Anders declares. "I need to tend to my clinic."

_'No one was talking to you, **thing.**'_ She doesn't say that either. But something must have came into her gaze, because when she looks at the Isabela the sailor blinks in particularly surprised way.

"Sure thing," the Isabela agrees, but it sounds so very much more unsure. _'Please don't die between now and then.'_ It went unspoken as well, but Lyla was pretty sure the Isabela had heard it anyway.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" Lyla asked in a strain voice as a pair of boobs were suddenly pillowing her face as the Isabela gave her yet another hug.

_Maker but if she doesn't stop flirting with the bartender and actually get the information they needed, Lyla was going to kill Isabela herself- Aveline didn't sound as angry this time "shut up whore"- 'I should get that embroidered on my blouse!" - "Please stop talking about my underwear."- A High, delighted laugh as she tries on a new hat with a flourish, winking at an amused Lyla._

She wasn't this 'touchy' the first time they met, Lyla felt sure of that. Flames, but what had changed? She waved good-bye in an absent-minded fashion as she led her brother away, trusting in her 'friends' to make it to their homes safely.

* * *

"I didn't like how she kept touching you," The Carver groused, leaning forwards so she could massage just the right spot on his shoulders. Lyla had to stretch from her position sitting cross-legged on the floor

"Aw, baby brother. Are you jealous that a cute girl was flirting with me instead of you?" She cooed, pressing her thumb against a particularly tense spot. He sighed through his nose as his shoulders slumped.

"No."

The Bethany giggled, trying to hide the grin behind her book. The two sisters shared smiles over their brother's head. He grumbled something unintelligible.

Lyla finished the massage by lightly scratching the Carver's back a few times, just enjoying the comfort of family.

"I get to go with you next time, right?" Bethany asked suddenly after several minutes of silence. The Carver startled back into awareness at her voice, pulling away from Lyla suddenly. The eldest sibling let him go, trying not to look disappointed.

"It depends," Lyla said nonchalantly, "on how annoyed I am with t- Anders when I wake up."

"How can you stay annoyed at him?" The Bethany giggled, setting down her book and clasping her hands in front of her. She scooted a bit closer to the two. "He's cute, isn't he?"

"I'm out!" The Carver scrunched up his nose and stood up. "I'm going to- go help Mother or something."

"Don't leave the house after dark!" Lyla called, watching as he slipped into the 'kitchen.' Once the door clsoed behind him, she turned to her sister. "Cute? Him?"

The Bethany giggled, taking the invitation for what it was. She crawled across the floor, mindless of the dirt, until she was sitting across from her sister, mirroring her cross legs. "Oh I don't know. He's a bit cute."

Lyla made a disbelieving, rolling her eyes. "He's an abomination. A monster."

"If he was such a danger you wouldn't allow him near me or Carver."

"You could do better than him, Bethany."

"But his eyes~ Did you see them? And that long hair, that little bit of scruff. So manly!" Bethany giggles again, reaching up to twirl a piece of hair between her fingers. Lyla blinked, suddenly realizing where she must have picked up that habit. "And he runs a clinic for free. That's so sweet of him!"

"Elves are prettier," Lyla grumbled, and then flushed red with horror and embarrassment when Bethany gasped, clasping her hands together again. The younger mage squealed, and wiggled around until she was laying on her stomach and staring up at Lyla expectantly, feet kicking behind her and elbows propping up her head.

"No. Uh-uh. Absolutely- Bethany!" Lyla covered up her face and tried to curl in on herself until she disappeared. "There's not a guy, okay? It's just an observation, I swear!"

"Tell me who~" Bethany sang, eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Who's caught your eye? Tell me!"

Lyla thought fast, but saw no way out of the trap she's set up for herself."Athenril?" She offered hesitantly.

Bethany's mouth fell open. "WHAT?!"

"Sh!" Lyla flailed her hands desperately, starting to panic. "Mother will hear you!"

"You SLEPT with our BOSS?!"

"It just happened!" She groaned. "Please, ground, just swallow me now!"

"Tell me what happened!"

"Tell what happened about what?" A thin, reedy voice asked, making both sisters start. They both squealed in surprise. Leandra smiled at both of them from the entrance, leaning against the door-way. Both sisters smiled nervously at her. "What are you two shouting about?"

"Lyla'sbeensleepingwithAthenril!" Bethany blurted out right before Lyla let out a cry and lurched forwards to cover her mouth- too late.

Leandra blinked at the two sisters, who froze and stared at her with wide eyes. Then, the mother chuckled. "Oh, so this is a 'girl talk' then? Can I join?"

Lyla laughed nervously, removing her hand and sitting back. Bethany scooted back and sat properly upright as Leandra made her way over. The elderly woman slowly lower herself to the floor next to them, smiling happily at her children. "This would explain why your brother came out a few minutes ago and volunteered to help," she chuckled, tucking her legs underneath her in a truly noble fashion. "Now, why don't we have a nice talk? What was this about Lyla?"

"Oh, Mother, she's been laying with **Athenril**!"

"Oh, is she good in bed?"

"Mother?!" Bethany cried, aghast.

"Yes, of course she is. Otherwise I wouldn't be still with her."

"Lyla!"

* * *

"You're in a good mood Hawke," Varric commented idly, rubbing a polishing cloth over Bianca.

"Maybe it's because I'm here now," Isabela purred from across the table, laying a card in front of Bethany. the young mage tried not to scowl, failed, and put down her own card.

"I had a good night," Lyla said easily, setting down her own card. Since she had the highest number she scooped up all the rest of them and put them in her own deck.

"Oh? Who got laid then?" Varric wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning. "no need to hold back the details." Isabela looked up in interest.

Lyla scoffed, kicking the dwarf under the table. "No one got laid," she said in a scolding tone. Isabela looked a bit disappointed when she set down her next card. "I just had a talk with my family is all."

"A** girl** talk." Added Bethany, smiling at the memory as her cheeks gained a dusting of pink. "So the family- minus the boys. Apparently, my sister's been- mshff! Mrmmmphmmr? Mnnmmrrr?! Mmvvv mrn mnn!"

"Hahaha, no," Lyla said with absolutely no humour, refusing to look up from her cards. "I'm not moving my hand, thanks for asking."

Isabela's eyes were gleaming in curiosity now, and the pirate lowered her cards enough that Lyla got a quick peek at them.

"Fm krm Mvnmvvn mn-mn knffmpft?"

"No, not even if you'll buy me sweets."

"Mnpft krrmn nrt?"

Lyla had to consider that for a moment. "Maybe," she conceded. "Can it come wrapped in a red ribbon?"

"Wrrm mn pfftkssst kn ghrn mn nrrm nrrrbnm?"

"Oh, good point. But where would you get the money?" There was a moment of silence, and Lyla still didn't move her hand. Bethany's brow scrunched up, her eyes narrowed in challenge as Lyla somehow managed to set down a card on the table with one hand and not still show anyone what the rest were.

"Oh Sweet Andraste!" Lyla yelped after a few seconds more, pulling her hand away. She shook it, leaning back in her chair in an attempt to get far away from her sister. "Oh, ew ew ew! It's slimy now!" She wailed dramatically, holding the offending appendage away from her. Bethany laughed in delight, tossing her hair over her shoulder and slapping down a card of her own.

Everyone laughed, except Lyla, who was wiping her hand off on the table, shuddering every few seconds. "We had a girl talk last night," she re-iterated firmly. "And that is all you'll hear about it."

Bethany scooped up the cards on the table, grinning triumphantly. "One more round before we go off on our quests, then?"

"I want to know about last night. You're no fun." Isabela pouted, picking her own card. Lyla smiled fondly, and they all set down their chosen hand.

"I'm all sorts of fun," Lyla bantered smugly.


	10. Promise

**In which I realise that I forgot to post a chapter before I went on w/ my life.**

* * *

"I need to ask you a favor." It was Athenril who said it, but her mind immediately shot to the past. His dull eyes looked up at her, face gaunt.

Lyla winced at those seven words, immediately taking a step back. The last time she had someone asking for a favor, she helped blow up the Chantry. She was immediately wary, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. Suddenly, the shiny object on the shelf weren't as interesting as before.

"What kind of favor?" She asked, trying to act casual. She lazily lifted a finger up to trace a twisted golden statue. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell Athenril wasn't really buying it. The elf crossed her arms and pursed her lips, but didn't ask the question she obviously wanted to.

"Just a… favor. Not too big, not with your skill set." It was vague. Athenril wasn't usually vague; she probably wanted Lyla's full attention for this. Sighing, Lyla let her hand drop to her side and turned to face her, her- she wasn't exactly sure anymore. Lover, perhaps. Athenril looked pleased by her action, anyway.

"There's this dwarf that needs a hand- he says it's for retrieving some of his stolen merchandise.." Athenril said off-handedly. "His name is Anso." The elf made a face at the name. "Of course, I think he's lying."

"Of course, you think he's lying," Lyla echoed. There was a sound like distant drums in her ears. "I'll take it. Make sure no one else gets hurt. I'll even take my own group, no worries."

Athenril beamed at her, and Lyla found herself melting at the expression. She didn't resist when her former boss pulled her into a big hug, or even when the elf's hands dipped a bit low. Lyla wrapped her own arms around Athenril, sighing as strands of hair tickled her nose.

"I should be going," she said mostly to herself when it became apparent that she wouldn't be released soon. "People to kill, a group to gather…"

Athenril let out a frustrated huff, pulling back. Lyla gave a mocking curtsy, smiling slightly. "My lady, I shall return."

"You should," Athenril pouted, "it would be a shame if you died."

Lyla laughed hollowly, turning to the door. She glanced down at the little piece of paper Athenril had slipped into her hand, telling her to go to Lowtown that night. She shut the door quietly behind her, not looking back as she crumpled the note in her palm.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" She scolded herself, her feet carrying her forwards. First thing first; she had to stop at the home and pick up Bethany like she promised. "What have you gotten yourself into?!" She repeated at a snarl, a hand reaching up to tug on her bangs. She ducked into a dark alleyway nearby, shaking her head vehemently. Her fingers tangled in her hair, pulling on the strands in a rhythmic pattern as she tried to calm down. She stared out into the street, watching the air waver in the heat of the midday sun. "What have I gotten into?"

Suddenly she felt very small, something she hadn't felt since her talk with her Mother and sister. She let out a sigh and dropped her hands as she leaned against the wall behind her, uncaring of the dirt that covered the stone or the sharp edges that poked at her through her sleeves. A long sigh escaped her. After an eternity in the dark, she straightened her spine and stepped back into the light.

Halfway home she remembered she already promised Bethany she would take her along.

* * *

"Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far."

Lyla stared at the man as if he was stupid- which perhaps he was. "Jumpy" her arse- even if he was new to this whole "sky" business he was too nervous. She could even remember thinking it the first time she had met him; now that she knew the truth, it was even more apparent.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bethany drag a hand down her face and Varric poorly acting like he had no idea what was going on.

"You know these templars can be!" Anso said nervously, waving his arms slightly for emphasis.

"So wait a minute. You're smuggling lyrium to the templars… and you 'lost' it-" Lyla made air quotation marks at the word "lost," "-... to some smugglers you hired." She heard Aveline let out a hiss of air behind her, though if it was because of the ridiculousness of the situation or because of the mention of the Templars, Lyla didn't know.

"Of course he is," Bethany groaned, her head tipping back and eyes squeezing closed.

"By the Paragons, not so loudly!" The man yelped, making a shushing motion. His eyes became even wider, and his eyes darted to the left to look into one of the darker alleyways nearby. To himself, he mumbled something about taking a job sweeping stables.

"Don't tell me; is it in the alienage?" Lyla drawled, cocking her hip and crossing her arms. Anso looked suitably startled, then laughed nervously.

"My, but you are good at your job!" His eyes danced to the alley way again, and alarm bells went off in Lyla's head as the dwarf laughed nervously.

"I-if you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided. But I'm sure-!"

"Alright, alright, we got it," Bethany interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Maker, we know how these things work! It's all trite, now."

"A-ah, alright then. I-I'll just be here…" His eyes darted to the alleyway for a third time.

'No, you won't be,' Lyla thought to herself. Casually, she spun on her heels to the left to leave, looking a bit irritated. Shadows moved in the corner of her eyes as she did so, and she inwardly preened. "Off we go then!" She told the others cheerfully, stepping away and leaving Anso behind.

It was just a hop skip and a jump to get to the alienage, though when they reached it they hovered at the top of the steps leading to the square. The tree loomed ominously in the dark; the buildings seemed to be especially jagged in the night. Briefly, she wondered how it seemed so much better when she was there to drop off Merrill, and her heart twisted painfully.

"It's a little quiet here tonight…" Varric mumbled, trying to squint through the gloom. "Too quiet."

"Yep," Lyla popped the last letter and looked on with a deadpan expression. "It's a trap." A scream of terror as the battle started, a little elvhen girl caught in the sidelines.

"Don't say that, you're always right!" Bethany snapped, though even she looked wary. Lyla threw her a wink and sashayed her way down the steps in a rather arrogant manner, her hands held behind her back. Her eyes did a routine sweep around the Alienage, taking note of Merrill's house and all the dark corners she could hide in.

She stopped outside the house, looking over her shoulder as her companions gathered around the door. Bethany looked rather crossly at her, and Lyla offered her a grin and a shrug. It wasn't her fault that Bethany insisted on coming to the next job. Varric stopped on the other side of her, grumbling about how Bianca was going to get scratched, and Aveline took up the back looking around just as warily as Lyla did.

Also, angry. Oh yes, Aveline looked like she wanted to strangle the rogue. Lyla turned around slowly, trying not to giggle nervously.

The rogue jiggled the door handle briefly and it opened easily at her urging. The door creaked softly as it swung open, and everyone held their breath as the dark insides of the shack was revealed. They waited for battle cries or sounds of anger.

Only the settling of the house answered them, and Lyla squinted into the gloom. She glanced behind her again, a hand coming behind her back and fingers curling. Be ready. There was a quiet rasp of a drawn sword and the half-heard clicking of Bianca as an answer, and Lyla led the way into the building.

The door swung closed behind them, softly clicking back into place. Blood coated the floor when it opened again.

* * *

"Something's not right."

Varric let out a groan and his head fell forwards to hit the chest he was attempting to unlock. Lyla flinched slightly at the hollow thunk, her eyes sliding to one side and looking innocent. What, me? I didn't say anything. There was a long-suffering sigh from one of the girls, and Lyla pulled on her bangs.

The chest was empty. Of course, it was. Varric pursed his lips, fingers drumming against the side of the box.

"Just one time, Hawke," Aveline complained.

"Hey, you were all happy when I helped you with that ambush!" Lyla whined back, though she slouched down and tugged on her bangs harder.

"Hey, now," Varric said uneasily. "At least we have some warning, right? It's not like we wouldn't get ambushed if Hawke didn't tell us! And I mean, it was kind of obvious, and- uh… with the whole nervous dwarf thing and…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sunshine, how about you hold off with the magic just for this fight, okay?"

"I agree." Lyla stopped pulling on her hair and crossed her arms instead. "We don't know what these people know, and I don't want you to be in danger if someone can go running to the templars." She ignored Bethany mumbling something about preferring to stay at Gamlen's, standing firm with Varric's decision.

"Nervous dwarf thing?" Aveline echoed curiously. "Are you talking about him or you?"

"Eh." Varric shrugged.

* * *

"Temporarily integrated into our group" Bethany put it. "Think of it like an escort," Varric claimed. Varric had become used to Hawke's antics by now, the way she would slide in between her companions and the challenger and made sure they wouldn't get hurt. The elf, however, was not used to this at all.

"Maker!" Varric yelped when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hawke almost get decapitated by their newest addition. The rogue, by some miracle, managed to duck out of the way in time, but ended up tripping over one of the bodies on the floor. Well, not a body per se, seeing as said "body" was still clinging to life. Hawke took this as an opportunity to finish him off before rolling a couple feet away and springing to her feet- out of the range of the elf's sword.

Varric's heart was pounding in his ears from the near-miss, and his bolt cut through the air with less accuracy than usual, going in the direction he was looking at instead of the crazed guard. Hawke reeled back in shock as the bolt sliced through several strands of her hair, sending Varric a disbelieving look. Andraste's flaming knickers, but this wasn't a good night for Varric.

He had enough common sense to look sheepish, not innocent. Bianca was returned to her place on his back with skilled ease, and the others shook themselves out of a fighting mindset. "So in this fight, we have established that there is probably blood magic at work, that there is sure to be a lot of resistance, and…?" Varric trailed off.

"And that you-!" Hawke pointed at Fenris, the other hand on her hip "- have no idea how to fight in a group!"

The elf just stares back at her, face carved from stone.

"We are fixing that the first chance we get," Hawke declares with authority. And just like that, the night was better. The elf's face changed, just slightly, to surprise, and he made a choking sound in the back of his throat. "For now, I want you to try to stay at least two feet from allies- past your sword's end, mind!- so that you don't hurt yourself or anyone else."

Finished, Hawke sniffed and turned on her heel, leading the group to the next room. Bethany and Varric followed her, and Fenris came last looking lost. While he couldn't be certain, Varric thought he might have heard Hawke mutter "Save me from elves!"

"That was a close one," Varric mentioned amicably, trotting by Bethany's side. The younger Hawke sibling makes an affirmative noise, already looking tired.

Makers hairy balls, but this story would need embellishment. Maybe he could add in some fierce dragons and a heroic rescue by yours truly. Perhaps some steamy- er, or maybe not.

* * *

Lyla was vaguely impressed that Bethany and Varric managed to hold off crumpling to the floor until after the elf had stomped out of the room. Fighters they may be, but stamina was not something they had in plenty. Of course, she couldn't scold them since she joined them just minutes later after a quick check that everything really was safe.

"Oh, floor, you're the only one who truly understand me!" Lyla moaned, feeling the coolness of the floor seep into her cheek. She was grateful she managed to avoid the puddle of ooze when she fell, but it was a passing thought. Her full attention was soon put to use in making her as boneless as possible in the few short minutes she had.

"We should probably loot the place," Bethany half-heartedly suggested from her sprawled position on the stairs. "... After a quick nap?"

"No," Lyla groaned, sounding pained to say it. "No naps. Fenris is probably waiting outside for us and brooding."

"Let him brood; at least he's sexy when he does it," Bethany huffed.

Lyla squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. When she opened them again, she had forcefully forgotten whatever it was her sister had just said. With a weak whine, Lyla pushed herself onto all fours before stumbling to her feet. The cool press of the stone had made her muscles stiffen already, and her knees locked uncomfortably. With determined huffs, she shuffled over to the chests.

"Why didn't I stay a mage?" Lyla asked pitifully as she popped open the lid. Her blades felt heavy against her back, and the weariness in her muscles didn't really seem worth it. With another huff to get her hair out of her face, she glanced at her sister. Her gaze softened when she saw Bethany, sitting half-asleep at the top of the stair.

Oh, that's right. She remembered why she became a rogue, now. A warrior and two mages was a worthless group, the warrior unable to protect both mages and neither able to pick locks or detect traps. If she was a rogue, however, she could protect both of her siblings better. She did this for her family; it seemed everything was for her family lately. Dead eyes, broken promises of safety.

"Mn, but did you see the way his arms flexed when he lifted his sword?" Bethany hummed, barely loud enough to hear from where Lyla was.

The eldest Hawke sister squeezed her eyes shut again, clenching her teeth. There was no way she would be thinking of how Fenris flexed his muscles, or how strong his abs and thighs must be to be able to pull off some of those moves. There was no possible way she was wondering if the lyrium went all the way down, because that would be so inappropriate of her. Fenris is- was- her friend.

"Bethany!" Lyla hissed angrily, slamming the chest closed as her sister giggled to herself. Lyla propped her elbows against a nearby table and buried her face in her hands. She took several deep breaths as Bethany's giggles died down and Varric started to snore in a really convincing way.

'Family, family, family,' Lyla chanted in her head. Somewhere she found the will to kick Varric "awake" and lead the way out of the Mansion.

* * *

"It never ends." The voice was dark, coming from around the corner to her left.

'Oh boy, here it comes,' Lyla thought darkly, trying to look normal. She had to give Fenris a few points though; he was just as dramatic as she remembered him to be. The brooding pose leaning against the wall like that, his deep voice dipped in venom at the mention of magic, those pointy gauntlets! Lyla zoned out the next couple of sentence.

"And now, I find myself in the company of even more mages!" His head snapped over to glare, but it wasn't at Lyla. The mage-rogue faltered a bit, blinking narrowed eyes as his searing gaze was directed to her right.

"You can speak to me directly!" Bethany answered hotly, placing her hands on her hips. Lyla felt a prickle across the back of her neck, and slouched slightly. Her small "Murder Knife" found it's way into her palm.

"I saw you casting spells inside." Fenris pushed off the wall- and in no way was it in a dramatic manner!- and took several threatening steps towards the group. "I should have realised sooner what you really where!"

"You don't have to make it sound like she's some sort of a monster in disguise," Lyla said blandly as Bethany bristled and drew herself up.

"That's exactly what she is!" The Tevinter elf snapped, his hands curling into fists. "You harbor a viper in your midst, make no mistake!"

In a heart-beat, Hawke took a step to the side and slid in between the two. Gone was thoughts of friendship and tattoos, or of girlish blushing. This man could easily rip out her Bethany's heart with those hands, and he wasn't taking a single step closer. Hawke continued to blandly smile, all signs of life gone from her eyes.

The last person to be a danger to her sister died a very nasty death and, while Lyla was loathe to do the same to Fenris, her sister came first. For a minute, Lyla didn't stand there in front of her sister. For a minute, Fenris wasn't a memory. For a minute, only the mercenary Hawke stood in his way.

It was enough. Green eyes widened in surprise, a step back was made. Tense shoulders matched the tense mood, battle-ready and waiting. Her neck prickled.

Lyla's smile turned to the sharp side. "I would appreciate it if you didn't call my sister a monster, please. Thank you." It wasn't a request, there was no answer.

Fenris swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek. "I… apologize." He said at length. The gripping atmosphere lessened slightly.

Hawke hummed in 'encouragement,' a spark of light glittering in her eyes. She didn't move to either side, waiting for him to continue what she knew he must be holding back.

"I'm not blind," Fenris claimed suddenly when he saw his apology did not sway her. "I know magic has its uses. And there are… undoubtedly, mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to intentions!"

"The road to damnation is paved in good intentions, elf. Not just mages can go astray," Hawke argued, crossing her arms.

"But stray mage's' power is a curse to inflict upon others!" Fenris proclaimed heatedly.

Hawke's lips quirked in amusement and Lyla blinks languidly. Bethany grumbled something from behind her, sounding like she was sulking. The cooled words broke the atmosphere again.

"I must sound ungrateful to you. Nothing could be further from the truth." Fenris said at last. " I did not find Danarius… but I still owe you a debt."

Hawke glanced dismissively at the bag of coins, though Varric eagerly reached out and took it. Fenris only hesitated for a moment before handing it over.

"Can we go now?" Bethany hissed from behind. The rogue-mage let out a soft breath, almost like a sigh, and relaxed. Lyla put away her murder knife in a not-so-sneaky manner, muttering about resetting her holders.

"I will be here, if you require my assistance," Fenris said almost stubbornly, lowering his chin slightly.

"Yeah, well," Lyla grumbled, suddenly feeling tired again. "Don't be surprised if I talk you into going on an expedition into the Deep Roads." With a open-mouth yawn, she threw an arm around Bethany's shoulder and led her sister away, leaving the elf to figure out the last sentence as he willed.

Green eyes stared up with hate and betrayal as he lay on the floor, half burned and bleeding sluggishly. He wouldn't survive the hour. She had other things to do than watch him die.

* * *

"But his voice, though!" Bethany whined, slumped as she was on the bed.

"He hates mages," Lyla said in a clipped tone, warily eyeing the mass of mold under Gamlen's bed that she swore had just moved. It- it might've been cheese?

"And did you see what he did at the stairway?"

"He ripped a man's heart out," Lyla said, her lips curling in distaste at the memory. Distantly she wondered if her sister was going to do this with every man that joined their group. "Very manly, yes."

"So you don't find him just a little attractive? Do you find any of our companions attractive? Varric with the chest hair? Or maybe Anders, with that mysterious tormented air? Or Isabella? Or even Merrill?"

Lyla actually shuddered at the thought of bedding sweet little Merrill. The blood mage looked so safe, tucked against the Templar that looked at her with love. Oh, Carver…

"I'm sure Isabella wouldn't mind if you…" Bethany trailed off, noticing her sister's distress. The younger mage frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm the oldest, shouldn't I be asking you that?" Lyla tried to put it out as a joke, but it sounded more strained than anything. She glanced over at Bethany with her crushed in chest and unmoving eyes, there was no way she could be and then looked away immediately. "Mother seemed a bit cross with me," she said instead. "And everything seems to just pile up, you understand."

Bethany fell backwards on the bed, her legs dangling of the edge and Lyla winced at the thought of any bugs that may be in the bedding. "I'm sure Mother loves you just as much."

"She's just worried, yes yes." Lyla finished. She threw herself belly-down onto the bed next to her sister, mindful to keep an eye out for any vermin. She blew out a sigh, and made a disgusted noise when it swept across the sheets and stirred up some dirt. "Maker, but I can't wait to get out of this filthy shed. If- when we get the estate back, I'll make sure we all have clean linen and brush your hair every day until it shines." It seemed like a reasonable request in her mind. And with all the treasures she had- she might- she is going to- find, it was more than likely to be granted.

Grace of the Maker be damned, for he had no say in her life any more.

* * *

"Good dog," Lyla cooed, scratching under Chomp's chin. The dog's tongue lolled out from between his lips, eyes closed in bliss as blunt fingernails scratched on just the right areas.

Behind her, Anders made a disgusted noise over the usual din of the Hanged Man

"Not much of a dog person, then?" Carver asked him, leaning farther back in his chair to keep an eye on Isabella.

"I prefer cats."

The Mabari let out a bark and pulled away from Lyla, bouncing over to Anders. The mage let out a strangled cry as a large wet tongue licked at his hand. "Stop licking me!"

The Mabari tilted his head to one side and let out a confused whine as Lyla covered her mouth with one hand.

"I'm- I'm really don't like all this open… slobbery affection!" Anders insisted, trying to push the Mabari's large head away.

Chomp just barked happily and licked the hand, making the mage shudder at the slimy feeling. Carver turned his head away and pressed his lips together.

"Be a real pet!" Anders snapped as the dog tried to climb onto his lap- something the war hound really was just too big to do. "Ignore me until you want something and then sit on my head!"

Chomp let out another confused whine, eyes wide. If he had done such a thing, he would've crushed Anders head. Varric held some papers in front of his face to inspect them more closely as Chomp backed away slightly.

"I miss Ser Pounce-a-lot," Anders sighed, grabbing his cup and leaving the room quickly before the dog could lick him more. There was a long moment of quiet afterwards.

"Pffffft-" Carver couldn't hold it in anymore, and his head fell against the back of his chair. He shook with silent laughter, trying not to be heard. Lyla grinned behind her hand and Varric dropped his papers since they weren't needed anymore.

"M-maybe I should get him a cat?" It was hard to get the words out around her laughter. It wasn't likely it would last long; most cats would get eaten by the inhabitants of Dark Town. But it was something to add to the list of things to think about.

Lyla loved to see children smiling. It was probably really suspicious that she would give the elf-children little candies or hand-made toys whenever she showed up to visit Merrill, but the parents never said anything. Lyla had a sinking suspicion that it was mostly out of fear that the onlookers kept silent.

The children in the alienage adored Chomp as well. Whenever she brought the large warhound, the Mabari would sit docilely as the children clambered over his back. Several times when she came out of Merrill's house, she saw him walking placidly around the tree with several little ones on his back. So, she wasn't worried when he suddenly became swamped by children as she ducked into the elf's house.

The house was dirty as it usually was, no matter how many times Merrill says she would get around to cleaning it. Lyla stepped over the threshold and told herself that one of these days she'll set aside a day or two or five to come down and help the little mage clean. She put that up there with getting Chomp some treats and finding a way to quietly "reveal" Fenris couldn't read so she could teach him. As well as fetching some more cots for Anders' clinic, and helping Varric with his stories, and training with Aveline. Also she had to stop by to check on the fifth of next month to see if "Brother Vael" needed those bandits killed.

What was the Antiva curse-word again? Ah, right- Braska. A swipe of her fingers across the table revealed a layer of dirt and crumbs. Lyla let out a slight noise and shuddered.

… Did she really have anything that pressing to do today? Maybe she could clean up just for a few hours. Merrill flitted around the house, looking more embarrassed by the moment as Lyla started opening up every cabinet and drawer she could find, looking through the shelves of duty magic books- one on blood magic, Maker what was she thinking leaving that in view?!- and still came up with no soap.

Right, this would need a trip home first.

After four hours, twelve nails, three bruised fingers, two siblings and one Mother later, Lyla could safely sit in a chair in Merrill's house and declare the house relatively clean. Of course, she didn't actually sit down in a chair. She sat on the floor on a faded blanket in an impromptu picnic in the middle of a newly cleaned alienage house with her family and her dog and a few tag-along children who smelled the fish cooking

The elflings didn't ask where the fish came from. Merrill didn't either, and Lyla didn't feeling like telling everyone how she froze a whole pond for a few fish. Instead she tried not to lick her fingers and listened to Bethany tell a round of silly jokes. The children laughed, as well as Carver and Lyla, who had already heard the jokes many times.

Mother fussed over how thin the little elvhen children were, and fussed over how Merrill's clothes looked a bit ragged, and fussed over how dirty the house had been earlier. She also fussed over how Lyla hadn't been home enough lately, or how Bethany was so close to those Templars earlier that week. The Amell children grinned and bore, and the four elves looked suitably abashed and awed by the worry. They looked up with big doe-eyes, blinking those innocent eyes. Even Merrill looked adorably, innocently confused.

And that's how 'get more food for elvhen children' was added to the list of Thing To Do.

* * *

Things To Do (Before I Die):

Get Chomp's treats

Throw out the cheese

Beat the sheets

Get Anders some cots

Learn how to play cards

Find Isabela-proof shirt

Find out if Fenris can read

Sew up Merrill's robe

Buy: Milk, eggs, flour, poison

Make sure Gamlen doesn't drink money away

Make sure twins don't drink period

If they do, then fix whatever they break

Feed children (Amell)

Feed children (Elves)

Babysit Carver

Sort Varric's bills

Make more money

Sharpen daggers

But find the whetstone first

Otherwise there'll be problems

Hide from Templars

Spend time with Mother

Take back Amell Estate

Train with Aveline (and guards)

Cat for Anders

Get more health potions

Buy a Brush for Bethany

Learn how to read body language better

Wash the dog (and Carver)

Deal with the Liar

Clean out the mines of Dragonlings

Wash Bethany's scarf

Try not to die

**"**This is getting ridiculous," Lyla grumbled, laying her head on the table.

* * *

_No hard feelings? _


End file.
